


Nemesis

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: A Study in Emerald - Neil Gaiman, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cthulhu Mythos, Hurt/Comfort, Jim is a maths professor, M/M, Sacrifice, Sebastian's hunting fetish, Tentacle Rape, mice on leashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: "Are you...real?" The voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Where am I?""The pits." I put a knee on the rough stone to steady myself, reaching a hand out to touch at his shoulder and oh. Warm skin. I hadn't felt human heat in weeks, and it was bloody amazing. I was perhaps imagining that my fingers on his wrist brought him back to himself as much as it did me.He clutched back at my hand with a surprising strength and stared at me intently."Who are you?""Colonel Sebastian Moran." It was good, too, to hear a calm voice, I wasn't inclined to deal with a gibbering madman, or some of the ones who fell into an ecstasy as their death neared and the glamours broke through whatever mental defenses they had managed to erect. I’d had an old Sergeant tell me I was going to go far because no glamour had ever broken through and convinced me the feeding of an Old One meant anything more than death. "What's your unit, soldier? Where did they get you?""Captain John Watson, Doctor, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," the man replied. A doctor no less, that was interesting and surprising he had survived. "You are _the_ Colonel Moran?"





	Nemesis

It wasn't my first time. I kept reminding myself of that as I sat up against the bars to my cell, waiting for someone to come - either to kill me or feed me, and I had little preference for either. I was weak and shaken and warmer out of the water and away from the creatures, holding onto the bars because it felt like my sanity depended on my hold of them. They were insatiable, and I couldn't quiet my mind, or the fact that I wouldn't take it anymore. I was a Colonel of the Empire and I wasn't going to bring shame to the Imperial Forces of Albion.

The screams were a constant echoing in the corridors, unless it was all in my mind. I knew the statistics on maintaining sanity once captured as well as any soldier who was given his standard issue narcs in basic. I was well beyond the golden three days where a mind could be rehabilitated from exposure, according to the medical lore.

This time there were protests outside, which meant new prisoners, new feed for their captors. I dimly registered it as an unusual level of noise; either they were consolidating or there had been another major victory to the Enemy.

It seemed like a greater number than usual, so I considered the fact that perhaps their incursions on Kabul had further weakened the empire's hold of this far flung hellhole. One of the Pashtun guardsmen approached the tiny door in my cell wall and opened it just far enough to shove a bundled-up man into the hole before quickly shutting it. 

"You could at least bring fucking bread! "

The man who was thrown in had lost his balance, and was no fresh captive from the looks of his clothes, but his eyes did not have the broken look of those who have been fed on too many times. There was lucidity in the way his eyes darted around taking in his new surroundings.

I wondered if I had that broken look in my eyes now, that glassy hollowness that might mask a bright mind, retreating away from the unbearable. Sometimes it felt like if I closed my eyes, I would fade away entirely, seep like algae into the rough stones I was sitting on. But this, someone new, that was different, that was something to concentrate on, to focus on and I used the bars to pull myself along the narrow dry ledge to properly inspect him. 

He was a short man, but then many were in comparison to my own height of 6ft 4 inches and under the dirt there was sandy hair, prematurely peppered with grey. I would have guessed that under better circumstances that he was of a more solid, stocky build, though there was not much spare flesh on him now. There never was after a feeding.

"Are you...real?" the voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Where am I?"

"The pits." I put a knee on the rough stone to steady myself, reaching a hand out to touch at his shoulder and oh. Warm skin. I hadn't felt human heat in weeks, and it was bloody amazing. I was perhaps imagining that my fingers on his wrist brought him back to himself as much as it did me. 

He clutched back at my hand with a surprising strength and stared at me intently.  
"Who are you?" 

"Colonel Sebastian Moran." It was good, too, to hear a calm voice, I wasn't inclined to deal with a gibbering madman, or some of the ones who fell into an ecstasy as their death neared and the glamours broke through whatever mental defences they had managed to erect. I’d had an old Sergeant tell me I was going to go far because no glamour had ever broken through and convinced me the feeding of an Old One meant anything more than death. "What's your unit, soldier? Where did they get you?"

"Captain John Watson, Doctor, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," the man replied. A doctor no less, that was interesting and surprising he had survived. "You are _the_ Colonel Moran?"

"Getting buggered and fed on five or six times daily by the Enemy, yes." I leaned my good shoulder against the bars. "Sorry you've joined my cell, this seems to be the randy dumb Old One who doesn't understand why I'm not yet pregnant."

We could speak so disrespectfully of the Enemy, but there was always a lingering anxiety, a remnant from our school days where the Catechism of the Old Ones and their benevolent rule over mankind had formed an indelible imprint on impressionable young minds.

"I sometimes wonder how they rule the bloody world. Mine was not much better where I was before though the feedings sound like they must have been longer. Perhaps this is trying to make up for lack of experience," John pushed himself up from the crumpled pile he'd fallen into as I felt the merest hint of a smile want to appear at the suggestion that this Old One had embarrassing sexual issues; it seemed human to human contact did us both a power of good. "I thought they were taking me to a portal sacrifice. Put me out of my misery."

"These aren't the ones ruling the world. These are..." I waved a hand vaguely toward the pool that lapped so close to our feet. I was cold and struggling to stay grounded and desperately eager to have company for at least a while. "Unintegrated. Wild. No bloody idea."

"Spawn. The strong survive and consume their fellows, gaining their sentience as part of the process. That is the current thinking, and makes the constant warring and combat make more sense. This one feeds off of sexual energy or something else?" John said and his tone was focused and clinical. A steady man then, one I would approve under my command, but there was little chance of that ever happening again. 

"Mainly sex." I watched John shift and pull himself together, keeping one eye on the pool as much as I dared to. And he was watching it as well. Alert but not numbly afraid, that was good. "And terror. Watch for that last part."

He winced a little at that warning. "Previous one had unusual combination of that sort of thing and more...exotic mental pursuits. Wouldn't leave me alone, ignoring the others. Not entirely sure I am not hallucinating now to be honest.”

"It's just become a group hallucination, Captain." I didn't have anything more upbeat to offer my new fellow victim, only that I was sure we were going to die in there. That despite numerous escape attempts, I had been hauled back to the same cell each time rather than tossed into the Temple Portal to the very Realm of the Others and a short-damned existence as we were consumed. That I was starting to worry that the creature was on to something with the constant buggering because each time it felt like less of me pulled out of the water broken and sobbing with reaction.

John exhaled. "I have lost track of time. It's like before didn't exist and that is probably a start of losing my mind completely. I still don't know why I'm...functional. Everyone else lost it within days. Maybe I have."

It was a point. There were those who went mad after exposure to a full blood Royal almost immediately, some lasted longer.

I had my ups and downs with sanity, I supposed. "I wonder if sanity is crueller under these circumstances." I knew in my soul that I was starting to die in body, and wondered if there was a point in telling the doctor that we were going to die; not screaming but like dried up roaches, starved and hollowed out. "How're you faring?" 

"Not well," John said and shifted again. "You? Injuries? I should check. I'm not thinking clearly."

Hardly surprising.

"Arm's withered out." I twitched my right arm, a motion that showed it was stiffened and drained down of the plump muscle and fat that had made life so possible. It didn't extend out very well, and my skin was covered on that side from neck to thighs with tiny spiral marks that I had trouble looking at. They seemed to make me dizzy to glimpse, something more ancient than mankind locked into my flesh. The doctor at least had clothes to hide his injuries. What I had left were little more than rags

"Let me look," John said. "Similar issue with my leg." The doctor seemed less disorientated now, focusing on a job, a role of some use. Feeling a human touch was somehow enlivening for the both of us then.

I heard a motion in the water, but didn't look. Not yet. "Makes managing an escape hard." Running on one leg would be a non-starter to try and escape through tunnels.”

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if that's why it did it," John said his voice flat of emotion. "Hmm. The muscle can be built back up over time. This area here, looks to have scar tissue in the joint. Surgery could deal with that. It would take time, but it could be done Colonel."

The touch of fingers against my arm was lulling, hypnotic, though I made a scoff at him. "Captain. I don't think we're going to have to worry about surgery."

"If you don't believe that why do you keep trying to escape?" John said, intent on his work of inspecting my withered arm. "What have you found out there?"

I turned my head away, because I could smell the salt-heat smell starting to rise against the colder murk of the cave, and looked out the cell bars. "Because I'd rather die on my feet than drowned. I've found more caves, and tunnels leading up, but I never get far enough." If I could have gotten the timing right, I would have liked another meal in before I next made the attempt, and it would have ideally been before the next attack. John kept stroking the skin of my wrist, and I wondered if the pool was more like an aquarium and many of them slid back and forth to, to... 

It was that moment that ancient Greek Archimedes had experienced, a sudden dawning realisation. Eureka.

"Can you swim?" I cast my eye toward the pool. It wasn't entirely dark, and maybe two of them could get far enough to make it worth trying. "Just, had the daftest thought. That yours and mine might be the same or maybe there's more than one and they circulate like an aquarium. I cannot see and Old One tolerating a solitary combined pool." Maybe it was human touch that granted me thought and access past anxiety again.

"I can." John seemed to think. "It is logical. They mix together and combat over food sources. That is part of their development. If we try it, it increases the chance of at least one of us getting out."

"Just my thought." And we'd at least go out fighting. I didn't think I could take another buggering, and just touching on the thought made my chest hurt and constrict in a semblance of rising fear. 

"I feel like there is something we can exploit if I can just think. Tell me what you can remember of the Royal's behaviour?" John asked, and closed his eyes a moment as if trying to force thought. 

John asked it, and I struggled for a moment to come up with an answer for him. I didn't want to think and that was the problem. I was thoroughly disengaged from my own mind, for my safety. His question forced me to try to think without touching any memories with heat or pressure out of fear that I might just start screaming. "I, I... it lingers after feeding."

"In what way?" John touched my shoulder again. "It might be important?"

I looked sideways at John, wondering what John had experienced that he felt like asking questions that seemed damned stupid. "Like a lover might. Basking. Exhausted perhaps." 

"Okay." John was thinking, it appeared. "When you've tried to escape, how have you been caught?"

A good question. They seemed to find me somehow.

"Just, quickly located." I shook my head, because I'd tried hiding, and they had still walked to me like they knew I was hiding in that spot, quiet as stillness.

"The Royals themselves." John looked at him. "A psychic connection. How do you usually feel after a feeding?" 

I rubbed at my face, still struggling to find words for things I didn't want to think about. "Bizarre. Drained, sometimes unconscious and utterly out of myself with fear. Don't you?"

"No." John said that in clipped tone that clearly meant he would perhaps prefer that to his own experience. "I remain conscious of myself the entire time. How long before you can function?"

"I don't know. I haven't got a watch." I looked sideways at him again, and added, "maybe two or three minutes."

"There is... a possibility then," John said. "After it is sated...it might be possible to kill it."

It was as if he was speaking gibberish. 

I looked at him, long and steady, and attempted to gauge a soldier I had just met. Was it madness or was it madness to try to stay there? Yes. But to kill a Royal? That was an impossibility something out of legends and children's story for a human to accomplish. "Won't be long now, I don't think."

"I'm serious, if this is one that… basks..."John said. "If it should go for me, then be ready. Is it a cephalopod type? Tentacles, octopus type?"

"It..." The water had started to glow in a telling way, and it drew my attention briefly. "Tentacles, and an amphibian body. Of sorts." It wasn't as if any of them could be described in a sensible manner other than bloodlines back home that broadly grouped them.

"Cephalopod." John's voice took on an urgency. "There is a nerve bundle between the eyes. They never hold us close enough during, but afterwards... It looks like a very small bump. A sharp hit will temporarily wind it. Removal of the nerve cluster will paralyse it. I know Royal physiology. If it takes me, then you be ready. If it goes to you, then I will. If it takes us both...then I will try to use that period." 

Removal of the nerve cluster. What did we have for weapons? Hands. Elbows. Feet. The cell was bare of anything mildly useful, but I nodded at the doctor’s words, and added, "let's try it." After all, the worst that could happen was death, and so far, that had been denied to me despite my begging pleas. 

We were lucky, in some ways, that the creature had waited so long to feed on me again, but it also didn't feel like long enough. I would've preferred to work the plan out more, or had more time to learn my fellow captive, but it was an opportunity. I repeated that to myself as the first tentacle slid out of the water. The pair of us instinctively backed up as far away as possible, but I knew there was no escape. The press of the bars against my back were no comfort. John's face became a mask, a muscle in his jaw clenching as the tentacles oozed out of the water.

And then I couldn't look at my fellow captive anymore, my attention rivetted to the writhing mass breaking the surface. It rose from the water, slowly, like a buoy that seemed to emit its own light, and one tentacle lashed out suddenly and grabbed me by the leg, while it made a noise that sounded to my addled mind like cooing. 

I heard a yelp next to me and another tentacle was winding itself around my new companion and this time there was an inquisitive tone. Like a child with its favourite toy being introduced to a new one it also liked the look of.

So, it wasn't going to go well for either of us, I figured as I was yanked into the water after two, three tugs that it took to loosen my grasp of the bars, and I felt more tentacles touch my skin. I could half imagine it was like some spotty young fellow getting two hot women drunk for his own use at once, and it nearly made me laugh as the panic ebbed and rose and ebbed in my chest until I could barely breathe from the fear.

It was almost a familiar pattern now. It liked to snatch at me, to try and get the panic rising. It was having a little more success with that with John, as he was obviously not used to this one's ways, and then it would bombard us both with waves of unreasoning irrational terror. I kept half an eye on my companion, and despite the snatching, it wasn't until the near drowning that I felt my own fear rise, felt my legs pulled apart by two warring tentacles until joints started to protest and I had to try to grab onto the creature to stay above the water. It was familiar, dully so, next came penetration, and deep aching arousal, a loss of my control.

It overwhelmed us both, milking us of our emotions like cows. The terror started to blot out everything except nightmarish panic, the glimpses of another as entangled as myself, as violated. The desperate clutch of a human hand on my arm before it was ripped away. The sound of gagging and choked gurgles, the slither of icy cold tentacles pulling me like a puppet.

This way and that way until I was crying uncontrollably around one, speared on another, and a slimy inhuman hand held me close against the creature's body, suckers pressing against my skin as it made the world spin, reduced memory to flashes of shapes and colours that weren't real, buildings that couldn't exist and a brilliant pale purple sky that wasn't our own.

I did what I always did as I laid there sobbing against it, sobbing and aroused and sodding fucked out. Tried to remember my own world, my own life in sheer self-defence - Albion, and London, Star of the Empire, smoke and crowding and the rough familiarity of it all and its people. Then there was the draining feeling, the moment of feeding. It was unmistakable and much as I felt having an artery slit would feel as life pumped from you in arterial spray. A dreadful weakness, deathly cold creeping over me and the mental assault overwhelming.

My memories felt shredded, and I pulled quickly at the ones I could, pubs and nights out with the units, shit dining outs and good battles both. When I had my wits about me, I was back on the narrow ledge, gasping for air and trying to force back the cold feeling to take action. 

It was then that I focused on something I thought I'd never see, a human atop a Royal's head literally ripping out loathsome flesh with his teeth and the thrashing tentacles suddenly going limp as the ichor painted John green with its spurting volume.

The shock of the sight cleared my head more rapidly than I thought. John might be functional but he seemed crazed, clawing at the flesh as if he was digging for the creature’s brain or heart, sobbing angry hysterical sobs as he did so. The Old One had dropped, lifeless half in and half out the water, tentacle tips giving dying shaking twitches.

I shoved myself to my knees, and crawled over to John, to pull at him, hissing, "We need to go, we need to go now..."

He looked like some hideous half breed of human and Royal, bathed in luminous green ichor, and shaking as he was pulled away. "Oh fuck, fuck, what have I done?" 

"We swim, or I kick the door in and we run. Your choice." I was sharp because there was no time to think, only to act, and I was inclined to swim and see if it brought us up somewhere, anywhere else. We were committed now. When our unthinkable act was discovered, we would be ended.

"Can't run with my leg, might be able to swim." He was spitting out green with an expression of disgust. "You lead." 

"C'mon." Like I had any idea where I was going, but I slipped back into the water, pulling at John in an urging manner. He took one half hysterical big gulp of breath, and ducked under the edge where the cave dipped below water.

It was a gamble but desperation made the risk worth it. The water was surprisingly clear and there were bioluminescent organisms in what seemed like organised clusters. Mood lighting for the privileged Old Ones perhaps, or perhaps they fed on the creature's waste. I swam as determined and quickly as I dared, staying close to the ceiling as we reached a juncture. One that seemed to slope further up that was away, or three nearer and down.

Up was the natural way to go for humans, as down presumably was for the Royals. I found small air pockets for us to snatch stale air from before attempting that transverse. It was hard to tell when or where it would come up or how the pressure was managed, and distracting thoughts of logic grounded me as I swam steady forward, kicking with my legs and using my good arm to steer occasionally. Behind me, John was doing the opposite, pulling with his arms, barely kicking with his legs, just following my lead. 

Not that I really knew where I was going. I knew that we just needed to keep going. I kept on, feeling my legs ache and my head start to feel tingly as I pushed fervently toward what looked like a place to break through. A surface, with dull light.

John's breathing was rough and rasping behind him. "Exit?" he asked, half coughing.

"We're still going up." I coughed water, and sucked in hard breathes. "Let's keep going."

"There must be an... extern, current somewhere. The water...is not icy cold." It was still chilly, but he was right. "Go against the flow." 

"You ready?" I wasn't really up to thinking just then, just reacting as I readied to go back under again. John gulped air prior to plunging back into the dark water. We moved against the current, and there were times when I thought we were going to run out of air. Strangely the water started tasting fresher somehow. I sucked enough gulps of it in as we surfaced to tight sad bubbles of stale air full of Chaat knew what, and then ducked under to keep swimming. I was struggling to keep going, but I focused on keeping oriented to the 'ceiling', and making sure John was with me. Without the light of the bioluminescence we would have perished time and again.

There was a moment where John stopped me in one air pocket. "You feel that? That... hum in the back of your head?"

I could taste brackish water against my lips, still sucking in air desperately before we had to duck under again and swim, but my head was clear of noise. "No, no I don't."

"Fuck, okay it must be me. I get it around ritual places," John gasped out. "You know...the aperture ones. Temples. Means...we are near a surface." 

"There's been more air." And the ceiling seemed to be sloping upwards. I pressed a hand against it, and sucked in an unsteady breath. "C'mon. We can do it."

"Yeah." John was shivering. We had been in the water for a while, but now we were coming up towards more man-made looking areas rather than caves.

I remained focused, despite John shivering, despite John's awareness to whatever we were near, because for the first time since I been captured it was a spark of hope and I wasn't willing to give that up. My legs were burning but every sign that we were leaving the natural caves the further we swam was a relief. We came up for air again, and again, and I started to wonder if the direction we were heading ever lead to an end, when suddenly terminated into not a crevice to grab air, but an area where might one might wade into the water to enter it. 

John dragged himself out of the water. "A...priests communing pool." His teeth were practically chattering as he spoke. "If they are like home, they'll have robes hung outside. They do it naked." He had a grimace on his face as he said it, and I felt an overwhelming swell of nausea rise in the back of my throat, but managed to get myself standing and reached to pull John to his feet. Why would anyone willingly do what had been forced upon us? Perhaps it was the difference between sex and rape.

"We go together." We had a period that we had bought ourselves with the murder, because they thought their God was feeding, not quickly done away with by the new prisoner.

"I thing. I swallowed some of the ichor. Things feel weird," John said as we fumbled towards the doorway. There were priest robes there - fortunately they tended towards hooded just as our own Priests of the Temple did.

A tradition regardless of culture, which briefly amused me as I wrapped myself in a robe and then helped John into one. "I'm fluent in Aklo and Pashto if someone talks to us."

"Do you know any of the ritual sayings? I know a bit of the language, but it's mainly medical based."

"Enough to get by." I was about as observant as one needed to be in the armed forces, to participate appropriately in society, and... and I didn't want to think, didn't want to exist just then, but I hauled John forward with my good arm and hoped nothing else happened as they started out of the priests communing area. 

I had no idea of the time, but we seemed to be lucky with the emptiness of the shrine. John winced. "There it is again. I think they are having a ritual. Virtually everyone will be in the temple chamber," he said in a low voice.

"Good for them." We moved along a curving corridor, steady and casual enough, and I tried to not think about how my arm was suddenly seized with a pain more throbbing than usual. I remained focused on the practical: We would have to steal a car, we would have to...

My thoughts were disrupted by a throbbing chant and John staggered. "It's coming through, it'll feel us. "

"Then we have to keep moving." I didn't know how it would feel us - it wasn't as if we were marked as food, were we? Forever marked as sacrifices to this ruined, useless offshoot of the elder gods?

We headed out towards the doorway entrance. Night time which made sense. The sky was ripped open and bleeding above us, the stars shimmering in the phase light as it swirled around this peak. Obviously, the reason why it was the location of the temple, it was a natural weak spot.

"Truck," John gestured stumbling. "How's your hotwiring?"

"Shit. Yours?" I looked up, and out, past the mountains we were in, and the way the trees curved and had started to loop back in on themselves, their leaves sharp purple spears into the air, and toward territory that I knew was ours. The sky looked more familiar.

"Bloody awful." John grimaced. "We can give it a go." It was all we could do. By rights we should be insane according to all popular wisdom. But we weren't insane. We weren't insane, but there was no convenient vehicle at the mouth of the cave for us to steal. 

I had held a glimmer of hope as we made that swim and made it out to see the sky again but faced with a desert and no vehicle that we could get to our escape attempt was doomed. The area around the place looked unstable with warfare and death to walk out into the desert. We didn't have long to consider it before there were shouts behind us. 

My ponderings didn't matter; we had been caught up, just outside the door, and I knew then what we were going to die a more horrible death then I had already been experiencing. I tipped my head back and looked up to the sky as I put my hands in the air.

It was something that looked like a lightning streak, something that reminded me of home, as two grey storm clouds encroached into the split purple sky. "John, pleasure to have met you." 

"You too Sebastian," he said with utmost sincerity. "If they discover what we've done... better to try and make them kill us in a clean fight if you are able?" 

"I was just thinking the same thing." Being at peace with one's impending death is hard to put into words -- it was a swell of emotion much like hysteria, but much calmer and warmer and it clears the mind and focuses the will in a way only those who have experience it will understand. I turned, pulling John with me and readied to charge back towards the mouth of the cave and the sounds that were coming toward us, when to my surprise, they threw a net out and I felt a true despair again. 

We were unprepared, tangled and too exhausted to fight our way out of the heavy rope. They were not gentle with us, hauling us in the net in towards the inner sanctum. War or not, the Royals of every nation demanded sacrifices. War gave them an excuse to feed unfettered by consideration. 

Back home, the matter was much more measured and part of civic service; when you were of age to register for the draft, and juries, you registered for sacrifices. Most were temporary services, only those condemned for capital punishment by the courts, or deemed irretrievably insane ever passed through an aperture. What happened in the pits was not tolerable in Albion, though the damage was what it was in war. I admit that I laid in a pile on the floor once we were untangled from the net despairing. 

John seemed to be pressing his hand to his head. "Can't you hear it?" he said struggling to get up and then flailing in horror. "It can hear me.... oh gods, it can hear me..."

"Easy, John." We all knew to use the names of dying men, of mad men, to help reaffirm their sense of self and life, and it was easy for me then, as I reached out and snagged him around the waist. 

"It sees me!" His eyes were wild and the throbbing chant in the sanctum drew at the blood making it pound in my temples, drawing a dizziness with its ebb and flow. "It knows...it knows..." It knew and it seemed it was taking its vengeance on the one of us that could hear it. 

I felt the ebb and flow but heard no voice and felt no Great Elder presence in my mind, so I could do nothing more than try to soothe the man, holding him still while they decided what to do with us. 

John had latched on to me shaking and even the priests could not prise him off. They opted instead to bind the two of us together, and fetter us to the altar of the aperture. 

A slow and miserable death, where the stories said we would both dissolve away into madness and then nothing, our bodies empty shells as we will have been granted passage into the other side. Via digestion, I believed, so I was less than ecstatic about the thought, but at least continued my attempts to calm John down. 

It seemed to work, even as the aperture opened and then I felt it. Like a hammer blow compared to the touch of the other Royal that had fed upon me. It was like staring into a rip into another unearthly realm and find there all the horrors of nightmare and human imagining as the very least of what it contained. 

I still can't put it into words. I felt like my mind was crawling and melting, and any sense of defence that I had built up, any confidence in my steadfastness was shattered, crushed like a cheap toy underfoot. It was like drowning in sand, grinding me apart, and I saw, felt and tasted colours, felt fear that made me inconceivably hysterical, and I was fighting that dissolution, fighting to grasp onto one real thing and I could feel that warm body against mine and then...

Then I was in the back of a helicopter. 

It felt unreal. Everything felt pale and insignificant and John was still holding on to me, blood trickling from his nose, ears and eyes, but his gaze was remarkably clear. 

It gave me a focus, something to scrabble onto as we held each other. "Lo?" Best I could manage, voice sounding ragged from screaming. There was a corpsman leaning over us both, looking shocked. More than shocked, stunned with his mouth dropped open in surprise. 

"You… you are sane?" He seemed completely astonished. "Do you know your name?" 

"Colonel Sebastian Moran, sergeant." I glanced at his rank tab, and lifted my good hand from John's back to wipe blood off my own cheeks. I too had been afflicted with bleeding eyes it seemed

"Captain John Watson, " John said weakly and it brought me a surge of hope. I had been sure he would be another broken shell of this war.

Another veteran who'd be stored in a place of good care, but still. That wasn't living by any way that I reckoned it. "Heading back to Kabul?" I figured I'd get the gory details later. 

"We are on route sir," He still seemed shocked. "I... pardon my surprise, but you were within the aperture for a significant length of time. I'm not sure how you have survived." 

If he expected for me to provide him an answer, he left that conversation disappointed. I shrugged, and glanced briefly around the place before feeling a little ease. I knew we would then be transported to London. I knew I was getting what I had wanted that entire time in my watery cell.

* * *

They didn't know what to do with me. I've seen enough of the aftermath of battle and reclaimed prisoners to know they weren't expecting Sebastian or myself to be sane or alive. And yet here we were, a mystery incarnate landed in their laps and they didn't know what to do with except take constant readings, blood tests and have muttered meetings with other doctors about our existence. 

They transferred us from Kabul to London, where a whole lot of medical scans told us what we already knew -the damage was what it was. They'd done some exploratory surgery on the sucker marks, but were reluctant to try to reconstruct the skin. There was a theory that they'd just grow back and settle that way. 

For the both of us it meant an end to our active careers in the forces of the Empire. A surgeon who could not stand for long periods of time, or a doctor unable to be with his unit. No, I would be a liability, I understood that but it still stung. 

I don't think Sebastian was dealing with it well. It stung for me, but put him off bitterly; I overheard him requesting that his arm be amputated so he could get back to his unit. 

They seemed determined, however, to keep us until they had made sense of the situation, which as far as I was concerned meant we would be there forever because there was no sense to be found. I did not know why I reacted differently. I had downplayed the encounter with the Royal that we had killed because their reaction had been that it was an impossibility to survive, let alone make ludicrous claims about attacking one so it was evidence of insanity. 

Sebastian was cut from a different cloth, and he seemed resolute to represent things as they had happened, open and full. I knew if he was career, he was actually full of cunning, but he seemed willing to play it not as impossibility overcome but as a sign that the Afghan side of the war was drastically inferior to our own forces. 

So still we sat for yet another interminable debriefing. As if this would yield anything different to the previous times, but they kept bringing in experts as if one or other of them would find something different or logical that would make what happened sensible. 

These ones were different, but I didn't think it would change a thing for us. Sebastian was looking more restless than usual, and there were three men already in the chilly room when they entered. 

I was weary of this process -- weary of everything, truth be told, because sleeping was definitely proving a problem and I was reaching a point of exhaustion where I really didn't care. What were they going to do that was worse than I had endured? 

It seemed that they were deciding who got the honour of questioning us first.   
One man watched us intently, and he had been there for repeated interrogations, silent and observant, and a little puckish looking. The new two looked like characters from a bad comedy, one tall, the other short, both black haired and sharp looking in their own ways. I couldn't hear their voices, but Sebastian was staring at the third man in a way that drew my attention, just when the taller man spoke. "You haven't been sleeping, Doctor Watson." 

"Understandable I believe." I was probably a little terse in my response. "I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, as we have not been introduced. To any of you." 

Our silent watcher cleared his throat, and there seemed to be a faint... faint something to him. It seemed there was a touch of ice in the air when he opened his mouth, a light where most men had dark in their mouths behind their teeth. "Apologies, Doctor, Colonel. Sherlock gets ahead of himself. We've reached a... decision point of sorts with your mystery. Both Sherlock and James here are preeminent minds of the Empire, and they have listened to the tapes of your previous debriefings." 

"I'd like to look at your scars, Doctor," Sherlock said, already moving off of his chair toward John. "I've catalogued 172 types of cephalopod scars from corpses, and as you can imagine they have a different property on survivors." 

"Aren't the documented pictures enough?" I asked. It had been humiliating enough to go through that process. I sure as all the hells was not going to strip off in a briefing room. "All the information you need can be found there." 

He flashed a smile at me, but it didn't seem very warm, and Sebastian leaned forward, between us. "Look at mine instead," he offered, turning up his shirt sleeve to his shoulder. "How is this a damn turning point?"

"You are of course aware that you are anomalous in your survival with your sanity intact." It was only mentioned a hundred times a day. "I should not need to mention that that ability, if it can be replicated would be invaluable in a military setting."

It would seem that the one called Sherlock did not have to be invited twice, striding over to Sebastian to paw at his skin.

Pre-eminent minds of the Empire -- a sure a sign of doom as I had ever heard. 

Next would come the long knives, and a thorough inspection of what made us tick. "You can't replicate a soul, only a bloodline." Sebastian had an oddly philosophical slant to him, and in a way, it reminded me of reading the great old romantic writers from the past. "And I've already done my part for that. What're..." Sherlock pressed a thumb over one of the spiral marks -- which were hard for me to look at -- and Sebastian made an uneasy noise. 

"Stop that!" I could feel a rise of that strange humming sound in the back of my head, like a low cycle vibration. I was on my feet before thought engaged. "Take your hand off of him, you're doing something..." I literally snatched his hand away. 

He looked more intrigued than annoyed that I had done it. "Oh, that's very useful. You can feel the harmonics of magic. How long have you been able to do that?"

I had to consider, as I wasn't completely sure. It could have been that I wasn't around magic users much -- they weren't common and usually ended up in specialist positions in the upper strata of society. My sister had always said being able to work magic would be like writing her own meal ticket.

"I became aware of it during my incarceration." 

"And Moran has no such ability," he noted, cutting a look over to the other two. Sebastian was clutching his hand over the spot on his upper arm that Sherlock had been probing. 

"No, I haven't. And?"

"It didn't seem to be an advantage. If anything, I seemed to hear more during the final moment. Sebastian was more coherent at that point." I remembered it though, the images and whispers were something etched in my mind, no hazy dark mists of madness for me. 

There was no relief, and it was still in my mind. "Mmm. Is that true?"

Sebastian's "yes" was roughly voiced, and he pressed at the mark himself. "I could try to draw what I saw, but I'm afraid it wouldn't make sense." 

"My recollections are possibly of other implanted images," I admitted. It was unusual to recollect anything of those interactions. Sacrificial amnesia was a well-known medical phenomena. 

"Yes. Yes, in time." Sherlock seemed very focused on me as he spoke, and I felt nearly uncomfortable under his scanning gaze. The man who had introduced them all sighed.

"Come, come, let's all be gentlemen here and sit back down." 

"Gentlemen is the last thing I would describe Sherlock as being," the shorter of the men said, with an Irish lilt. James, I recollected as I sat down. Just that buzz had unsettled me.

"I would feel better if I knew what exactly the finest minds of the Empire are looking for," I said honestly. "I am not trying to be obstructive, but it appears when we do tell the truth it is dismissed as impossible and therefore a manifestation of incomplete insanity." 

"They call it impossible because they cannot conceive of it," Sherlock finally answered. "That only means they are obtuse, not that you are insane. What I was doing to the Colonel's arm was tracing the magical essence that is creating the constant wound. Think of it as a tiny thread, which goes from the centre of each scar back to the time and cause of your injury." He tented his fingers, "though it is more James' forte than my own." 

"A classic Fibonacci progression," James said. "Interesting, it's like it was trying to rework the sequence. I wonder if it was trying to make a walking node... now that IS fascinating."

"Can you undo it?" I asked immediately thinking of what that might mean to Sebastian and to my own injuries. 

It would mean better range of movement, less pain, less body dysmorphia, because there was an entire side of each of our bodies that was hard to stomach looking at. "Perhaps. If you would be willing to work with us." 

The question was, did we have any choice? Sebastian was particularly keen to be a party to these machinations, and voiced it before I could. "We're to be kept under our state's purview, aren't we? Indefinitely?"

"But in such a manner that you hopefully won't feel constricted," the man with the cold breath said, folding his legs almost delicately at the ankle. "It's in the country's best interest to make sure you aren't destitute or liable to fall in with unseemly members of society who would put your considerable resistance to use in a... similar situation as you were rescued from." 

My blood ran cold at that thought. There was something about him that made me want to shiver. "It doesn't sound like we have a lot of choice."

I was not foolish enough to believe we would be heroes. "So, what do you really want to ask us." 

"I would like to place you in the trust of my associates, Messrs Holmes and Moriarty," he said, standing up to pace closer to me. Very faintly, I felt a hum, like a distant fluorescent bulb. "And you would be feted as heroes. Indeed, you still will be; but this will keep you from being kidnapped in the night from your homes, and keep the rebels from courting you. It will give you a respectable place in society and isn't that what you've always wanted, Doctor Watson?"

It was not hard to deduce from my record. The military forces were a good way for those from the lower strata of society could advance themselves. In my own case it was a means to be trained as a doctor and surgeon. But those ambitions seemed trivial now after my experience. "And what will they expect from us?" 

"That you simply do what you would do -- carry on being quite extraordinary examples of humanity. Be a doctor. Be..."

"I can't very well be a sharpshooter or an officer any longer," Sebastian interrupted, and gained a briefly withering look from the man who was speaking. Sebastian didn't react one way or the other, and the man went on in slow, drifting breathes of ice. It was like watching a man speak after smoking a hookah.

"You'll find *something* suitable to occupy yourself, more suitable than a pity party. For the moment I would recommend you both focus on yourselves and maintaining your sanity. Adjusting will be hard. In Afghanistan, any of us you see are the enemy. Here and now in London, we walk among you. It can be triggering." 

Ah, that explained the hint of ice, the instinctive wariness that I had. They were Royal blood. Not full bloods but of the Nobility as the papers tended to call them. It was strange, I'd never noticed the feeling before or seen such visuals so I had to conclude that perhaps it was as a result of my experiences. "I may not be used to the politics of the nobility, but I know that nothing is that simple," I said, feeling entitled to my cynicism. 

Mycroft flashed us both a smile, and I noticed more of that seeming translucence about him, his teeth. "It is of highest interest within our government to assure your continued stability. As a factor of research, that protection is being extended to your families, though Colonel, your sister has been in my purview for some time."

"Mycroft, your reassurances sound more like threats," Sherlock offered, and he looked frustrated with the noble. 

"Look, just...tell us what the deal is," I said getting irritated. They dance, dance danced around the subject. "You want us as research subjects because we could be advantageous. But you're not locking us away. But you are giving us keepers." 

"Hello." The smaller Irishman wiggled his fingers at us. "Mycroft is dreadful at getting to a point. I'm Mr. Moriarty, and this is Mr. Holmes. We're just deciding who takes whom home." 

Sebastian curled a lip up, and leaned back in his chair. "Ah." 

Now we sounded like we were a couple of strays. "I can barely contain myself," I said unable to restrain the sarcastic tone. " Which of you wants the runt of the litter here hmm?"

"I think I'd like the Colonel," Moriarty said thoughtfully. "I could at least maintain the fiction he is my bodyguard. I keep being told that I need one." 

"Only maths professor I've ever met that gets so many well-deserved death threats," Sherlock mused. "You need a room, Doctor, and I could use the assistance of a medical mind." 

I looked at Sebastian, knowing I felt more certain of his judgement sometimes than I did of my own any more. "What do you think Sebastian?" Truly, we didn't have a lot of choice. A discharge pension would not get much in London, both of us would have difficulty finding and holding down other work with the inevitable after effects. We could try and exploit our fame, but to be honest, I would rather starve in the gutter than do that. 

"And you share rooms in the same building, do you?" He put that question to Moriarty, more than Sherlock. 

"Separate flats, same building and the inestimable Mrs Hudson as our housekeeper," Moriarty replied with a broad smile. It had a little too much flash of white teeth for my liking.

"Baker Street is in a good location, " Sherlock said encouragingly. "It's better than whatever dingy place you could come up with." 

"I suppose the circumstances of our keeping could be worse." He looked at me when he said it, and nodded, while attempting and then quickly giving up on crossing his arms. The proximity would be useful if the situation presented itself as one that we needed to escape.

"Fine, I agree," I said reluctantly. "Though I really do not know what else you think you might learn." They wouldn't want to know how I practically went feral after biting the nerve cluster in the Royals cephalopod head. I had steeled myself for the first bite, working on a theoretical discussion I'd once had with a medical colleague and it had worked. And in the working, I felt a terrible compulsion to destroy the creature. I still did not understand it. 

I had an inkling that it was a natural reaction, and it made me wonder things that one should not think or wonder. "Learn? I plan to put your abilities and brain to use, Doctor Watson," Sherlock grinned. "Come, let's leave this madhouse and get you looking respectable again." 

There was little else I could say to that except give in to the desire to leave the confines of this place. To see open air and our own coloured skies of Albion.

It wasn't until we were leaving that it occurred to me that if Mycroft Holmes was of noble blood, then his brother might be as well. It was a little late to be concerned about it now.

* * *

On the one hand, I was being paid a generous stipend and was being given lodgings free, although I could tell these two 'finest minds of the Empire' were likely to drive us crazy. Brilliant, certainly, I could see that, but stable...I was unconvinced.

"Mrs Hudson, come and meet your new lodgers!" James called out as we entered Baker street.

"Oh, oh, new lodgers? You didn't tell me you'd be moving, boys..." She looked like a gentle, petite older lady, with curled hair teased out from her head with care and purpose. "Oo, you two've been to the wars, haven't you both? Oh, come up to the sitting room and have a cup of tea..." 

"Not now, you can ply them with that later. This is Dr. John H Watson, and Colonel Sebastian Moran, and they'll be staying indefinitely with James and I." 

"A pleasure to meet you Mrs Hudson," John said politely beside me. "I apologise in advance if I cause any disturbance... my sleep has not been the most restful."

"Oh no trouble at all Doctor Watson, after all these years with Sherlock and James as tenants, I finally installed soundproofing," she said brightly. "They are always exploding things, or doing random experiments. And I’ll be honest, the noise from outside when the phase forecast is high became a little much." 

"I'm looking forward to taking you up on that cup of tea," I offered, as James tsked, and pushed open a door to the left.

"Come, I'll how you your room while Sherlock gets John settled." 

I saw John roll his eyes, but he limped after Sherlock even as James ushered me inside. 

"Welcome to 221A Baker Street, possible the best warded property in all of the Empire." He gave me a hint of that slightly manic grin and I'd been taught enough of the combat recognition to recognise these wards were ridiculously secure. It was possible his boast was not an exaggeration - it was certainly a cut above the normal council estate wards that would scarcely discourage a Flying Horror on a rift forecast night. 

"Any particular reason it's so well warded?" I paced into the room, it looked like a comfortable sitting room right off, coat rack, fireplace, mantle with tiny skulls of some kind lined up on it. Sofas and chairs arranged haphazardly. 

"Because of me," James said without a hint of modesty. "I am one of the Royal Mathematicians. Probably one of the best there has ever been and as such the work I do is...valuable to lesser minds."

"And greater minds think your work is...?" I was too aware as I walked that my arm hung dead at my side, even if it was covered with a nice clean shirt. It was easier to look around the room and see all the hallmarks of a man who lived a life of tastefully extravagant comfort, even the television was one of imported manufacture, which spoke of funds.

James laughed. "There are no greater that I have found to date. Sherlock tries to claim otherwise, but he always says that. We geniuses are somewhat lacking in the modesty a gentleman is meant to display. Sometimes I believe Victoria Gloriana is overtly fond of the formalities of earlier ages. They certainly have persisted during the centuries of her reign despite the ongoing development of technology." 

"If you'd met many from the new world, you'd find the distinction of formality comforting," I offered. But I had been raised in it, my father had been a distinguished diplomat, and his father before him. We were a long, traceable line, the Morans, and my sister had followed in my father's footsteps of government service. Formality had served us well. Our society moved swiftly in innovation, but our cultural norms remained the same as that of a century ago, and that of the upper echelons with proximity to court, even slower. 

"Come here, I will need to add you to the wards protections. You will need to produce at least three drops of blood." James instructed. He moved like quicksilver in the way he flowed around the room, always in motion. It was not hard to deduce that he was the architect of the wards himself. 

I checked the mantelpiece, and grasped at a small ceremonial Skinning knife, it was worn and nicked and looked like it saw frequent use for things such as this, so I pressed the tip into the meat of my bad hand's palm, and kept it turned upwards so as not to waste the blood. "Is Sherlock's similarly warded?" 

"With his own version. It is a sort of a competition between us, though I am the official Mathematician," James said bringing me a small stone. "On here please." I let the red blood drop and it soaked in as if it were a sponge. "Calculating the nodes for your rescues was some of my finest work. Opening a hostile invasive portal in the middle of their sanctified territory and suborning their own energies to do so? I shall be presenting my paper on it to the Royal Society shortly." 

"You rescued us?" That surprised me, as I had thought it was simply good luck and good soldiering that had led to the impossible outcome we were benefiting from.

James made some deft inscriptions with the blood and nodded. "There. Well, I'll be truthful, I did the calculations, and your rescue was a happy by product of a planned mission. The energy raised at that aperture was disrupting our air forces, and we have precious little of them with the skies as hostile as they are. Of course, you know they have been vital to the Empire's war effort." 

And necessary at times to keep the skies over London safe, but those had been dark days long past, now. We had grown up on tales of the derring-do of Imperial Aviators, saving Albion from the devastations of the Flying Polyps back in the 1940’s. There was little in our night sky now but stars and the shimmering crimson moon's comfort. 

"Of course. Without the deep burrowing bombs, we'd never have resecured Persia." A magnificent campaign, evidence of our superior strategic abilities in an area we were outnumbered by a factor of ten. 

"In retrospect, I believe you both were moved there as the equivalent of battery rechargers as you didn't seem to run out and fail like their other power sources," James said. "Ah, yes this is your own bedroom here, mine is over there." 

"Lucky us." I leaned into the room, it was sparse but the bed was big enough that I'd have room to roll around, and there were dressers to fill with the very little I owned. "This looks excellent." 

"I'm sure you will make your mark," James said. "Bathroom over here, kitchen area over here, though Mrs Hudson is all too glad to feed us day or night." 

The tour was quick, precise, and whirlwind. I was aware, above us, of the faint noise of footfalls - Sherlock and John making a similar tour. "That also sounds excellent. What, really, do you want to do with me?" 

"That is indeed a question," he answered. "The truth is, I shall observe you to start with, and then I will perhaps ask for permission to try a few things. I will try an unknot the energies in your arm so it will heal. However, that is not likely to be an immediate proposition." 

"I already grew accustomed to it in captivity." And other things, which bothered me to think of, and I glanced at Jim. "And what can I do for you in the meantime?" I was accustomed to having a task, and what Mycroft had suggested seemed impossible. 

"As I said, you can act as my bodyguard. A Royal Mathematician can be a very practical posting. There are always constant sources of threat, or dangerous area I am sent to analyse findings or incursion sign," James said taking a seat. "The rest of the time obviously, is your own." 

To do with it what I wished. I inclined my head in acknowledgement, and decided then that my first act as someone with time of my own would be to make use of the phone I'd seen in the sitting room and call my sister. 

James glanced at me and then started working on paperwork. "We'll get you a decent mobile phone tomorrow. How else will you be able to send abusive texts to Sherlock and John to irritate them for me?" 

"Lost mine when I was taken," I shrugged. The important numbers, I knew by heart, the rest didn't matter. I had them saved somewhere as correspondents in my email system, but my laptop and gear hadn't yet reached me, or it had been sent on to my sister on assumption of my demise. I picked up the phone, and dialled, settling into the chair next to it.

"Rebecca Sanderson speaking," came the answer and it nearly paralysed me hearing her voice again. 

I closed my eyes, because James was settling in his office space in the room, and I didn't want to be distracted. In a world of broken things, and chaos, I still had a family, which was more than most men could say. "Rebecca. I'm back in London." 

The entire affair, which had been surreal and remained surreal since the para rescue man in the helicopter had nearly been stricken with shock, had taken a turn for the unexpected that I hadn't predicted. I'd expected to go see my sister and see if she would take me in, until such time as I scared the children, by when I hoped to have stashed away either enough money from gambling ventures or secured myself some sort of work...

And it had been a shite plan, I knew. But being in permanent custody of the state... serving as a bodyguard with a crippled arm? 

"Sebastian? Seb? Is that you?" I could hear her voice take on a tremble that seemed entirely out of place in my elder sister's tone. She was always so certain and direct and like myself, a terrible disappointment to our father, unlike Richard. 

"It is." I glanced over to James, but my new companion seemed most interested in chewing on a pencil and staring at notebooks that he had laid out before himself. "I, uh..." 

"Gods of the netherworlds, Seb, I thought you...returned like everyone else and here you are able to string words together," she said. 

"I can usually do better than two syllable words," I half promised, closing my eyes and focusing on her voice. "I'm still myself." 

"It's a genuine miracle. Where are you staying? Do you need to stay with us? Jeremy won't mind...are you injured? How much convalescence do you need...are you going to be discharged or..." That was the sister he knew, her mind rapidly assessing options and her faltering disbelief swept away in the face of her skill of organisation. 

"It's all been sorted." I opened my eyes to see James watching me now, and I knew what I said next mattered. "I'm staying on in London with a maths professor at the university who needed a lodger to help with the rent. They've arranged physio for my arm, and the proximity to Royal United is good." 

"So, you do have injuries. Of course, you do," she said. "When can I see you? I want to see you are okay. Is there anything you need?" 

"Did they ship any of my things on to you? I think for a while I might've been suspected dead," he admitted. "Any time you can make would be good. It's been a while."

"I got your personal effects that your unit packed up. " Of course -- once you fell into enemy hands for more than a few days it was assumed even if you were recovered alive you would be shipped home. "I can bring those. Including the weird skin thing." 

I couldn't help but grin when she said that. "Excellent, I don't think I've done enough to piss James off yet. I think it'll look great in the sitting room." 

"The kids think it's 'cool'," Rebecca said. "I keep telling them if they speak like that they'll never get a good job. Anyway, I've got a day off Friday. Is that convenient? Or I can try and swap days." 

"Friday'd be excellent." I tipped my voice up in a question, watching Jim watch me. "Any issues with my sister coming over then, James?" 

"No, do what you want," James said absently. "I'll be working, or something."

As long as it wasn't anything I needed to attend, that was fine. I wondered briefly if John would be looking up his family -- he had mentioned a sister. 

I hoped their reunion would be good, that everyone was healthy. "Thanks. Friday it is then, Rebecca. I'm at 221A, Baker street." 

"Okay, my mobile hasn't changed," she said. "Or my email. Let me know if things change, if not I'll be over around 11. " 

"Right." She knew better than to ask me what had happened, at least over the phone, though I was at a loss for what else to say. "Well, I still have to unpack, so I'll let you go." 

"We'll talk more on Friday," she said. "Try not to get in trouble between now and then." She knew me too well. 

"I'll try. I promise." It was dangerous for me to be left bored for too long, and I hope I didn't have too much time on my hands between now and then. "See you then." I hung up, because it was that or loiter self-consciously. 

James seemed to be smirking about something as I glanced at him, a private joke of some description.

"Family reunions are always pleasant." 

"No, they aren't. Just, my sister is pleasant." It was strange and good to be out of the hospital, and I wanted to explore the area around our new rooms. 

"Must be a novelty," James said. He looked up at me with a calculating look in his eye. "You want to check out the immediate territory -- you've got that look. All soldiers are like that. You might as well make yourself useful. There's some cash in your coat pocket. When you get back around dinner, bring back some takeout. Mrs Hudson specialises in Albion cuisine if there is such a thing but I prefer a little more variety." 

I felt myself really smiling for the first time in ages, as I stood up to take my new roommate's cash. "There is. Meat and potatoes and carrots and Yorvik puddings have their place. Any preferences?" It was a relief that I didn't have to explain myself -- because if I were going to perform any sort of guarding duties, I needed to see where everything was. I would need brain more than brawn. 

"I'll eat pretty much anything -- all the takeouts in walking distance are acceptable. Pick whatever takes your fancy, I'm sure you have a view on what might be good." James said. "You can buy the next one when we get your bank cards sorted out." 

"Thanks." They did that with victims of situations like myself and John; seized assets and distributed things quickly back to the family -- if there was a family -- or otherwise the state would take its share to contribute to the ongoing care of someone who was suspected to not contribute again. It felt, more and more, like a close call with a fate worse than death, almost more than it had when we had been back in Afghanistan.

It had been too immediate, too in the moment. Now it was dawning on me what it meant to escape and why the doctors had been so fixated on our sanity. It meant that society did not know what to do with us and that I was at a loss what to do myself.

"Think it's a full moon, so don't take chances." James advised as I went to his wallet, got the money and grabbed my coat. 

After letting myself out I did jog up the stairs, up to where Sherlock and John had gone out, and knocked. 

I heard a muffled "Get the door John!" and the limping sounds of John approaching the door. It opened and John appeared looking at once harassed, and more alive than he had for a while. 

It was excellent to see, and I kept grinning. "I'm headed out for a wander, and was planning to pick up takeout on the way back -- do you want some?" 

"I'll get my coat," John said immediately. “Sherlock, I'm going out to get takeout with Sebastian."

"Yes, yes -- get milk while you're out." I laughed a bit as I stepped back down a step, fussing to get my coat on properly, and buttoned up.

"Sorry, I might slow you up a bit," John said hastily stepping outside the door. "Sherlock gave me five minutes and then he was wanting me to take my trousers off to see the scars." 

I made an amused noise as we started down the stairs, mindful of John's leg and the cane he was carrying. "Did you? James was very polite and sharp." 

"No, I bloody well did not," John grumbled. He could probably tell that I was stifling a chuckle at his expense. "I made a cup of tea instead and brandished it like a defence against all impropriety like a dowager duchess.” 

"Glad I rescued you, then. I really wanted to check out the surroundings first, get a feel for the area." It all felt like a bizarre arrangement, but John seemed lively and I felt lively even if I didn't know how to interact or handle people just then. Everything felt out of sorts. 

"Don't really know this area of London," John admitted. "I'll follow you - can't do a lot else really." 

"I called my sister as well. Have you gotten a hold of yours?" It was as close to conversation as I could make as I led the way out the front door. 

"I suppose I ought to," John sighed. ""Harry is... well, she might have even forgotten I exist. She's a Temple server now. " 

"Is she?" That... wasn't something I had ever considered a possible position to take, and I thought worse of it now, though that was a knee jerk reaction. 

"She went to train in magic." John shrugged. "She was ambitious beyond her skills."   
The magical professions were notoriously hard to get into, and harder to succeed in. It sounded like it had been a long-standing argument between the two of them. 

I glanced at the sky and the cobblestone pavers on the sidewalk, and let it all sink in as I oriented myself to go left or right. "And you went for medical." 

"Military and medical. I worked hard for it. Harry always wanted a magic fix. She could never grasp that the magical sciences required just as much hard graft as medical," John said. "We argued a lot… she looked for shortcuts from the Temples and that led to a dependence." 

"Never got tangled up in the temples. Went to a few ceremonies at them and it didn't seem like my type of fun." We went left, and I took the outside of the sidewalk. 

"Well, it's for public worship, and the lesser sacrifices," John said. "As I understand it, there is a glamour or energy released that is quite ecstatic in nature. Like the high of a drug," 

"My father was a minor dignitary in the Cult of Nodens, so public worship was very much a required thing for me growing up." I waved my free hand from side to side as we walked, taking in the street signs and posters, the noise and sense of purpose from other people on the street. I could hear music spilling out of headphones from teenagers walking past, hunched in their hoods, and a hurried mother trying to get home before dark. 

"You probably went to Temple more than I ever did," John said exhaling heavily beside me. "Interesting area. Pretty central." 

I started to slow down as I walked, and caught sight of pharmacies, clothing shops, candies and restaurants. "Basic needs are close by - that’s good. Yeah, but it didn't take the way it ought to have."

"Not a bad thing," John said looking around. "I'm buying new clothes as soon as I have money. Something more comfortable." 

The things we'd been given coming out of hospital were essentially donation clothes; functional, but not fitting well. "What do you consider comfortable?" 

"Jeans, jumpers, that sort of thing," John shrugged. "Though I suppose I will need at least one set of gentleman's attire for more formal occasions. Now we're far enough away, what do you make of this set up?" 

"I'm wondering who's babysitting whom." I cut John a sideways look as I tried to shove my good hand into awkwardly placed pockets. 

"Yeah. Sherlock is unusual to say the least," John said. "Brilliant but erratic. The two of them...not the usual guardians for convalescing war heroes if you ask me." 

"Not at all," I agreed, "which is why I suspect we're being put here to keep them... I don't know yet." 

"Do you think there is something strange about us?" he asked and it had to be said I wasn't completely sure how to answer that. 

"It's possible." I hoped he didn't take offense, though it was hard to tell when I didn't know him entirely too well yet. "We survived where we shouldn't have." 

"I have no idea if I am different, I don't feel different," John said. 

"Sometimes I feel disconnected. It's gotten worse since then." I shrugged as I said it, stopping in front of a shop for magicks, just to gawk. There were tiny little fairy globs in an aquarium at the front, and rather than catch their attention, I moved on. Their brightly lit tentacles weren't amusing just then. 

"That could easily be post-traumatic stress," John said. "I feel that sometimes but that's pretty normal." 

"Then we're not so strange, are we?" I leaned back to look at John, to see if any of the pretty baubles had caught his eyes or if it were just me. 

He had a little crease of a frown as if something was bothering him. "I can feel that buzz again. Different to before, but it's there." 

"Is it the shop?" I had come out of our ordeal with an arm that hung useless at my side, John had apparently come out of it with the ability to sense magic. "Truly amazing." 

"I think so, but it feels different from the one back where we were rescued," John replied. "A calmer, more harmonic buzz. It is strange. Not a lot of use really." 

"From a tactical point of view, it's extremely useful. Being able to tell what kind of magic, and when it's near - It could be an early warning for an attack." I steered away from the shop front, even as I contemplated perhaps purposefully exposing John to different types. "James could help you. He's a magic user." 

"So is Sherlock. Mind you, so far, Sherlock is a self-professed expert on pretty much everything," he said. "Well...we'll see. You don't have any weird after effects like this then?" 

"No. Of course, we should both be drooling puddles who'd be lucky to pull together a game of tic-tac-toe and not standing outside of a magic shop having a reasonable discussion," I pointed out, interested just then in continuing our exploration.

"True. Maybe that is what is intriguing them about you. Maybe it was you that kept me sane," John said. 

"How were you faring when you were with your own... creature?" I was reluctant to call that spawn a God, it had shown me no greater mental capability, and nothing great and terrible except perhaps it's cock head. 

"I remained coherent," John answered tersely. "But I didn't at the final moments."

"At the sacrifice pool?" I tried to think about it, it was part of why I had always felt disconnected. I didn't feel the ecstasy and the tremulous sensations that so many of my fellow officers described after going to a Temple. 

"The aperture. The actual opening to their realm." John shivered slightly. "But I remember it. I remember seeing inside of it and that was filling my mind and I could see their reality, not what they wanted me to see."  
That wasn't usual either. I could see their point in wanting to study us. 

"Mmm. What kind of take away do you feel like? I had some pretty good food fantasies going." And Sherlock had wanted milk. I noted yet more small shops and buildings, all in all a nice area. There looked to be more parking down the road, and something that made me think of a grocer to the busy look of it from our distance. 

"Anything aside from the gruel," he said. "Spices are good. They would taste amazing." 

"Nabhivarshan? And your flatmate wanted milk. James spotted me the cash, as I haven't got any cards that work. Suppose we need to get all that sorted tomorrow." But it still felt surreal and I didn't want to do anything tonight. 

"Yeah. I've got some cash," John said. "Grocer's up ahead, I’ll get some milk there. And I guess we'll just... get a variety of food. I have no idea what they like. 

"You have anything you don't like? Other than gruel." Or mouldy bread. Or hospital food which had basically bordered on prison food, except I hadn't wanted to point that out when the nurses had been really very gentle and careful. They had shit jobs, and it wasn't my job to ruin it 

"If I ate that I could eat anything," he replied and grimaced. "I can't actually remember what I didn't like much. Edible food is now automatically my favourite."

It was easy enough to find takeaways or restaurants in London. There were usually several on any given street. 

"I'd love a good naan. Or a vanilla slice. Nice glass of wine. Possibly all at the same meal." I had a sneaking suspicion that if I tried it I'd also see all of it coming back up, garlic, red white and cakey. "Naan or flat bread I think we can do, though." 

"We should be okay with something not too fatty," John said. "Naan, rice, maybe a tikka or tandoori. Wine might be pushing it a bit." He seemed a bit downcast at that. 

"I don't mind being miserable in the morning," I suggested chipperly, "and I have a feeling that James has alcohol to raid. Tandoori would be good, too..." 

"I'll remind you of that when your stomach gives you hell tomorrow," John said and smiled a little. It came as a bit of a shock because John really hadn't smiled a lot since I knew him. For obvious reasons. 

I liked the smile he gave me - wry and warm and deep, and I had to focus to steer him toward what looked like an excellent restaurant. I was going to try to beg milk off of them in the odd chance they had any. A bottle for a child maybe, so we didn't have to go further and go to the grocery store yet. "Good. You can rub it in all you want." 

"Mmm." The sound he made in agreement was just enough to give me the idea that John might be thinking about more than food. Or I could be really misreading the signals.

It wasn't sure, and given our recent circumstances it was better to let it lay for a while longer. I might have been declared sane, but I was struggling to hold a conversation - John had been the easiest to talk to, and James had not been hard. But I struggled to talk to my sister, a conscious effort. At the hospital I had said little but polite things, and I did not want one of my few connections to humanity at risk. 

"Looks like they got milk. How long have we got until moonrise? People seem to be clearing out pretty quick and I forgot to check the phase forecast." John looked around. We should have known better than to go out anywhere without checking the moon phase. 

"We'll order and go," I said dismissively, because worrying wouldn't solve anything just then, and stepped up to the man at the cash register, my eyes on the menu that hung over his head as I picked out enough food for four. 

"You could just pick one of the meals." John sounded a bit tense, and I could tell he had gone onto alert. Moonrise didn't always wait for darkness depending on the time of year. 

"We have a couple ready," the man encouraged, and I relented then, because whatever it was, people were heightened. I handed him the money, and knew it wouldn't be a long wait if they just had to bag things, but John seemed very keyed up. 

Perhaps the two of us were playing the game of appearing more together than we actually were. John had never talked about details of what had happened before our association. It had been a short period of time realistically before our rescue so in actuality the intense connection we both seemed to feel had come from a half day's trauma.

"Sorry, what's the phase forecast?" John asked the shop owner.

"Waxing 97%, with trine aspects to Mars," the owner rattled off. "They've forecast rips tonight in most areas."

Naturally, James hadn't warned me of that when he spoke about the moon. Later, I'd accept that, but for the moment it surprised me. I accepted the plastic bags when they were handed to me, and gestured to John. "Shall we?" 

"Yeah I think so," John said. "Oh, and for the milk. Thank you." He said and then limped painfully out of the door. "I should have checked the blood moon forecast." 

"Slipped my mind." Worst that could happen is we'd have to... brace ourselves and hope nothing came our way. 

"Me too." The light was dimming as we set out on our way back and I could see a tell-tale hint of green starting to bleed across the sky. 

We fell into an easy silence, though we both walked wary and a touch faster than was good for John's leg. We saw the burgeoning green in the sky, glowing brightly, and I thought I saw a motion of flapping wing in the sky, a suggestion of bees down an alleyway. A soft sweet smell that made my bile rise. 

"Insectoid type," John said with a shudder, "I will run if I have to. We need to get weapons... damn it." 

"Mm, we still have our teeth." It was a poor joke, but not one I meant lightly as I felt my own anxiety ratchet up; still, we hadn't gone far, and our walk out had been far more leisurely than the rush back to the flats. Nothing touched us, and once John was inside I slammed the door behind us.

"Sorry, we probably had loads more time," John said. "Got caught out in a moon phase shift once when I was young. It wasn't good." 

"What happened?" I used to sit out in a hunting hide when I was younger, but unarmed I felt no such inclination. 

"They'd locked the doors on me," John said. "I was...thirteen I think."

"Who had?" It felt like a story that needed to be told, as we stood in the hallway nearer James's door than the stairs. 

"My mother and extended family. She was too narc'd up to hear me," he said as we climbed the stairs. 

"Ah." I didn't ask what the circumstances of her drug use were; some people simply couldn't deal with the world. "You made it." 

"Yeah, pretty much," John replied. "Surviving overnight opened my eyes to a few things. My family loyalty was...strained after that." 

"I would've felt the same if I had been in a similar position. I ran away from home a few times, and voluntarily spent the night out in old hunting hides, which... isn't the same." I knocked on Sherlock's door.

"He won't answer," John said. "He knows it’s me." He opened the door. "Sherlock we've got food. Do you want it here or..." 

"Here." It was a dismissive hand wave, and I was surprised that when we stepped inside, James had apparently joined him in their sitting room. 

"Food,” John said shortly. "On the condition you give me some peace about scars." 

I was and wasn't surprised to see James there, and I went to find the kitchen to get glasses and plates, silverware; there was no movement toward a table, so I assumed we were eating in the sofas. Very casual, but welcome after everything. 

"Later, then." Sherlock seemed barely willing to sit upright. 

John humphed a little but I have to admit we were both distracted by the food. I was literally salivating as we served it out. 

It smelled good and warm and better than merely edible. I settled sitting cross legged on the floor, and James seemed amused with himself as we started to pass the food around. "We just missed a phase transition tonight." 

"Oh yes," Sherlock said not sounding remotely bothered. "It's been interesting around London for a while." 

"Any idea why? There was an insectoid just two blocks up..." I exhaled offered John a piece of naan. 

"Do you want the long answer or the short," James asked with a mouthful. "Eh, you wouldn't understand the long. Magic and stuff. Fallout. Chaos theory."

"He is saying that in terms of portals here and there are not that far so we get more fall out than you would think from a war geographically a continent away." 

"We bring the war home," I offered, eating a little. It was delicious and flavourful, and hot.

"This is amazing,” John said looking blissful. "I've missed food like this."

"You are both showing signs of malnutrition," Sherlock said. "I would say both of you are still a stone underweight. Probably Mycroft pulled some strings to have you released before your time from the hospital." 

"Staying there wasn't doing us any good." I chewed slowly, and let my eyes close to enjoy the taste. 

"Very little. " Sherlock agreed. "You'll get up to par soon. In the meantime, we have work to do. Insectoid you say?"

"Bees," I offered, "and something like honey, but not in the air. John how did it feel to you?" 

"It didn't really feel unpleasant," John shrugged. "Sorry, it is difficult to describe. I didn't know there were different ways to feel." 

"Nothing to apologize for." It was only me attempting to put John's capabilities, such as they were, to use that I personally would have attempted, didn't actually mean they were fit for that use, that use was the appropriate one. 

"Interesting, you can not only sense magic, but differences in magic?" James asked. "Oh, that’s. I'm going to have to borrow him Sherlock. That could be very interesting indeed." 

I almost wanted to apologize to John, but held it back as I watched the three of them. John seemed about on better footing than I was, more easily engaged, I focused on eating and watching and listening to James and Sherlock banter a bit with vivid familiarity. 

"If you wanted him you had your chance," Sherlock replied. "Besides, you are the one saying Sebastian has an intriguing energy flow."

"What does that mean?" John asked sounding alarmed. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. Quick to doubt, aren't you?" James flashed John a smile. "It means he has an intriguing energy flow. I've never seen one like it before."

"Unique. Both of you." Sherlock mused. "In different ways."

"Are the both of you ...Nobility?" John asked and I was startled as James burst out laughing.

"I'm as far from nobility as you can get. Irish slum origin, me. Here by virtue of brains and ruthlessness."

Neither of which were to be scoffed at. Sherlock smiled at John, though. "It's hard to *not* notice Mycroft, isn't it?" 

"Gods yes," John said with a sound of relief. "Can you all see it? Can anyone else see it? Or is it just me?" 

"I can see it. Like he's made of ice, with a human skin over him." I took another slow bite of food, while Sherlock looked pleased as he glanced again at John.

"Yes, very accurate in so many ways. And you can see him, of course, which is why you asked."

"His mouth is like ice inside," John said absently. "So, does that mean you have that inheritance too?" If he did, it didn't show in the same way. 

"I do. I'll leave it to you to work out how." He seemed mildly amused at the suggestion. "My family has been like this for a long time. Generations back." 

"The Queen's pets," James needled. "The Holmes… Stalwarts of the Albion Court."

Sherlock seemed mostly unbothered by that. "A role my brother fills with exquisite skill." 

"So, what is it you actually do, Sherlock?" John asked. I had to admit, I wasn't sure. James was a Royal Mathematician, by his own admittance, but Sherlock seemed to not be a worker for the Government or a Mathematician. 

"I am a consulting detective." 

James snorted into his tea, loudly, and muttered, "and independently wealthy." 

"So, you solve...problems?" John queried looking a little intrigued. It was not a job role I recognised. 

"Like New Alba yard...?" I offered, trying to fit him into my worldview and failing, as I would continue to do for years there-after.

"No, no, that's insulting. Better than the yard, that lot of tossers..." 

"He loves it when they can't solve something, and he wanders in and solves the case in a few minutes," James said.

"What sort of cases do you solve?" 

"Murders, quandaries, puzzles, the unsolvable. Anything not boring." He drawled that out like it was a word that left a terrible taste in his mouth.

"So, anything you think is a challenge," I offered. 

"Barely anything is," Sherlock responded. "You two pose a conundrum. It is not the usual treatment for prisoners, or the usual result."

"People keep telling us that," John chipped in. He seemed to have finished eating. 

"It's also vague and unhelpful," I agreed. "I know we shouldn't be sane. But we are." 

"Mm," James replied. "As I see it, either they are weakening...not likely, or somehow you two are strengthened."

I snorted, and lowered my head to finish a few bites more of food. "We're stronger. But what will you learn from us?"

"I'd be willing to be first test animal. It makes showering very hard." I stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee drop as I rummaged for mugs. 

John was clearing up, a military habit. You didn't leave stuff lying around, you cleared up after yourself or you heard about it.

"Tomorrow we will do the first tests.” James said. "After whatever shopping you need to do." 

"Phone. Trousers that fit." I poured coffee into four mugs -white no sugar, too much sugar, and nudged John to doctor his own. 

"Laptop if i can afford it," John said making his drink. "I feel out of touch with things."

"Easily done," James said. "I love a mystery to solve as much as Sherlock." 

"My sister probably hasn't pawned the one that was in my gear," I mused, grabbing mugs to take back to the table. "And we're a mystery, then." 

"How and why and possibly how to replicate it," James said stealing the last poppadum. "Possibly more. Humans are paralysed by the otherness of that place at the moment." 

"It's overwhelming, but not paralyzingly. Have you ever...?" I tilted my head at James. 

"No," Sherlock said. "Aside from the obligatory Temple visits. There is a hypothesis that noble blood changes the interaction somehow."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not noble blooded in my ancestry," John said.

"There is a reason why the Queen's consort is a strong noble blood," James said. "Mind you, records indicate he has...changed over time. Obvious having an extended lifespan for one." 

"He was originally a German prince," I pointed out, getting up to get something to drink. "Tea, or...?" 

"Coffee," James said diffidently. "White, no sugar. Sherlock will have it with about ten sugars."

"I'd be interested in seeing how you work out how to fix Seb's arm and my leg," John said sitting back. "That is literally the most I've eaten for months."

"Hospital food included." There was a coffee pot and it was relaxing for me to go through the steps of making coffee.

"Indeed," Sherlock said. "Drink your coffee and James will fill you in on the basic news you might have missed. "

That was at least something useful and I sat down and relaxed. Maybe knowing the news would help me feel more connected with the world again.

* * *

I had to admit, shopping was more wearing than I had given it credit for. Even Seb was looking a little pained after a couple of hours. It turned out that neither of us had any idea about clothes shopping, and defaulted to jeans and plain black trousers as standard. It didn't take too long to fill up with clothing. Getting a laptop was harder, but James seemed to enjoy arguing about that, and Sherlock decided I had no idea what I was talking about with phones so took over that part of things too.

Then there were toiletries, and basics and by the time we reached 221B Baker street again my leg was burning like fire with shooting pains. Sebastian looked uneasy as well, but once we were inside the building we unpacked. I laid down on the bed for a moment and contemplated pulling jeans on, but the peace and quiet was amazing. 

I was still hoping this sensitivity was an aftereffect that would fade off, a sort of mental equivalent of burned skin staying painful to the touch for a long time, but having honesty with myself meant I knew that wasn't the case. This probably wasn't going away, and walking around all the sources of different energies in London jangled at my already unsteady nerves.   
But the rooms I had were quiet and I could recharge in the silence. It was a surprise that I couldn't feel a thing in those rooms -maybe something Sherlock and James had rigged up. 

Time to see if Sherlock was alone or if he had company already, if Sebastian was back. James had peeled off after lunch, noting he had a lecture to give to a large group of young dumb people. 

Even in the short time he had been there I had noticed that Sherlock and James' moods ebbed and flowed in peaks and troughs. They were ridiculously intelligent - I'm no slouch having made it through the medical degree, but they are exponentially more advanced than we are. 

I headed out into the living room, heading towards the fridge. I'd had a few surprises when we had packed our groceries away earlier.

"I want to look at your scars." It was a bored sounding, blank statement from the living room, where Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa, his feet up on the arms. 

"I'm having a sandwich," I said evasively. I was pretty sure I was going to have to give in, but I was attempting to make Sherlock see me as a person rather than as a collection of interesting scars. 

"Ugh. Is your friend coming up, or did James drag him off to school?" 

"I think he was staying behind. I'm not sure. " We were both wiped out after going into London, but Seb might have gone with James while I was lying in a heap. It was easy enough to knock up a quick sandwich - food still was a comparative novelty. 

Everything seemed delicious, and I was just starting to add cheese and spices back into my repertoire. "Mmm. Hand me your phone."

My focus was on the food and I absently handed the phone over before I thought about it. Anything could happen where Sherlock was involved. 

He texted something off, and then laid back down tiredly on the sofa. I was just arranging my   
sandwich on lovely toasted bread, when there was a knock at the door. 

"You didn't disturb him... Sherlock, seriously...." I went and opened the door to reveal Seb. "Sorry, I stupidly gave him my phone...what did he text you?" 

"You said it was an emergency?" He'd changed clothes into a flannel and jeans, and was looking much more relaxed. I never should have given my phone to Sherlock, though it was a mistake I made over and over again. 

"I'm really sorry, the only emergency is that Sherlock is bored apparently," I said. "Uh...Sandwich?" I proffered it as a peace offering. 

"Oh." He inhaled slowly, and seemed to be trying to calm down. "Well, I'm up now. What're you putting together?" 

"Cheese, ham toastie," I replied. I felt guilty for getting him stirred up and it wasn't even me who had sent the text. 

"Yeah, I will." He looked perplexed, and was glancing at Sherlock as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Thanks. I was just getting a nap. James wanted me to get through some of his books." 

"Oh yeah? What books?" I said. I quickly made him up something conscious of Sherlock watching us. I wondered if they might have some answers in them for us. 

"Mathematical theorems, application of science. Magic for dummies." He drawled that last one, smirking at me as he said it. "Hello Sherlock."

"John's going to take his trousers off in a minute," Sherlock drawled from where he was sitting and I nearly choked on a bit of sandwich.

"Sherlock! I haven't said I would do it."

"Of course, you are," Sherlock replied smugly. 

"What am I missing?" Sebastian chuckled sort of nervously. 

"Scars. We're investigating scars today," Sherlock insisted, sitting up quickly. "Hurry up." 

"We are eating our sandwiches," I repeated again. "Be patient Sherlock." I wouldn't take long but we were not to be ordered around like that.

I caught a brief smirk from Sherlock and realised I had somehow agreed to do it in putting him off. 

I was on the other side of things, and I didn't quite realise how it got turned around on me that quickly. Sebastian seemed unnoticing, and wandered into the kitchen a little to help. 

"Sandwich," I said handing it over. "Actually, I wouldn't mind if you stayed. It's not the easiest thing to deal with." Understatement and a half.

"I think since I originally volunteered for test rat duty, I'd be remiss to decline?" He accepted his sandwich, and gestured for the both of us to settle into the living room. 

"Thanks." I couldn't really stall a lot longer. "Okay Sherlock, you can have a look. It's pretty mangled. " I awkwardly took of my trousers grimacing as I did so. 

And Sebastian watched me, trying to look as if he wasn't. 

"It's the scars I'm interested in," Sherlock insisted, gesturing him to come and sit down close.   
I had seen them all too often. Livid and with a faint sheen under the skin as if something was growing back a bit different. They followed a similar pattern to that of Seb's, simply by virtue of cephalopod tentacles being the same basic shape. I gestured for him to look and tried not to think too much about it.

"No, they're quite different. I made a false assumption that you both had the same marks." Sherlock sounded oddly puzzled as he stared at John's leg, leaning in close. 

"It was only the last time. Well that and the very final time that we were together," I said trying to sound casual. "I told Seb that it had done it before I was put in with him."

"Yes, yes, but I'd think that the spawns that had you were of similar lineages, your marks are very different in nature." He reached out to touch at the edge of one of John's, a sucker mark that looked oddly like a mouth filled with skin. 

I flinched automatically, feeling my breathing speeding up even as I tried to quell the reaction. "I was in a different place. I was moved while unconscious so I have no idea how far away I was originally." 

"Tell me what it looked like." Sherlock palpated the spot, and then stopped, and I felt myself relax. 

I went clinical and detached automatically. "Cephalopod type but with a minimum of 13 tentacles originating from head area. Ring of sense organs in a 360-degree circle around Fontenelle structure and a cyclopean single visible eye - highly magnifying lenses. Torso, amorphous and amoeboid, no discrete limbs. Cranial structure 50% of entire body mass - evidence of highly developed psychic potentials." 

"I see. And you, Colonel, yours...?"

Sebastian looked amused. "Giant fish man with tentacles for a face. Tentacles on its back. Hulking thing, huge upper body and shoulders, dumb as a rock." 

"I chose correctly," Sherlock sighed, looking at me again. "And how would you describe it?" 

"Immature major cephalopod, humaniform torso, undeveloped appendages, sensing and feeding tentacles on facial exterior, combat and defensive tentacles with squidlike chitinous cilia within the suckers, capable of extreme damage." In a developed form, it would sheer through steel with a thrash of the tentacle much like giant squid. "Over developed upper torso with exceptional lung capacity, and bone structure indicating later wing growth. Limited psychic ability, mainly orientated on feeding and satiation." I winced...I had no idea why I could recall the creature in such detail. 

"Mmm. Completely different creatures. We'll still have to sever the magical connections on both your scars but the magical calculations required will be different. I believe yours will be easier, John, so we'll do them first." 

"What's involved?" I asked intrigued that he thought it was that easy. It wouldn't heal physically until that was gone, I knew that. 

I didn't know why I knew it, but I did. It was theorized that the touch of Others brought something of the other side with them. The fact whether it was a scar that could be cosmetically removed or more like a tattoo was still up for debate, and most scarred in such a manner also became unhinged with madness. Sebastian was watching us, silent and perhaps thinking.

"I need to get a knife and cut it off." 

"Cut it off?!" I was startled into raising my voice. "You are not cutting anything off." 

"A scarification," Sherlock insisted, "which if you were doing a surgical reconstruction on more traditional scar...?" 

"Yes, but in hospital Sherlock...with drugs," I blurted out. "There are muscles there I need!" 

"I know where they are," he protested, and leaned back again. "Just at skin level. I need to examine it without a human host attached. Microscopic analysis." 

"A small sample then," I agreed. "Not. Cutting it off." He only needed a sample to examine. 

"Fine. Let me get my equipment." He stood up in a flurry of motion, probably the fastest I've ever seen him move, and Sebastian leaned back. 

"I'll run downstairs and get you some rubbing alcohol and peroxide. How did you know how to classify them...?"

"We do a section on type and wounds," I replied, remembering the lectures that seemed distant up until I started seeing the injuries come in. "Known Royal Bloods, Old bloods and Other-spawn, and then a classification structure to point you in the right treatment direction." 

"Does it help that much?" Sebastian stood up, to let himself out, to get supplies. "I only ever learned what they are to kill them.” 

"It can," I admitted. "You can have minimal physical injury but if it is one that has overdeveloped psychic development there can be swelling in the brain which is not visible and needs a steroid shot." 

"And yet you... didn't have brain swelling," Sebastian pointed out as he neared the door. It was one more reminder that I wasn't normal. 

I considered. "I'm pretty sure I did to start with, I remember having migraine style headaches that made me want to heave." There hadn't been much to throw up. "After a while I must have become used to it." 

Sebastian made a thoughtful noise, and tapped his good hand on the door jamb before heading down the stairs to hopefully get supplies for my surgery. 

This was probably a really stupid thing to agree to but I could at least see that Sherlock was as good as he made out. What did I have to lose? A couple of hours and I could barely walk more than a limping crawl. 

Sherlock came back with an armful of things -scalpels and a plastic container, and a tray. Not very soothing and I was glad that Sebastian was going to get things like bandages before I was cut open. "Where would you like it taken from?" 

I stared at the knotted scar tissue and gestured to an area that wasn't near big muscle groups. 

"Here would be safest" I pointed out. "I'd like to keep whatever muscle I can."

"So fussy about your muscles," he sighed at me. "Honestly what are they doing for you now? Failing. I am fascinated that yours doesn't seem to be a vortex to the other side, but Sebastian's are. I'm not sure what's going on with yours..." 

"I have no idea," I said with a shrug. "Maybe a by-product of whatever it did that has upped my sensitivity. Seb is just getting some things before you start. " 

"Tell me about your experiences with magic prior to the sacrificing," Sherlock said, still studying the scarring. He was holding onto a scalpel, too close to my skin, but he wasn't moving yet. 

There wasn't really much to say. "What, with it occurring to me?" I asked thinking hard. "Not much really. Harry had the ability, I was never interested." 

"Never interested or merely uninterested and unobservant? Did you have, perhaps, exceedingly good luck in avoiding the unpleasant?" Sherlock was looking impatient, and I was mildly relieved to hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

"James has a wild amount of medical supplies laid in..." 

"I was lucky in avoiding it. I saw it happening and got out of the way," I answered. Now I thought about it that was pretty unusual. During that night I had been locked out as a child I had somehow avoided the most of the horrors which realistically was not right. 

"So, it was subconscious," Sherlock mused, looking at me appraisingly. "And now your willingness to listen to it is heightened. I'd wager... Sebastian, your dealings with the more unpleasant manifestations of our world?"

"Oh, uh." Sebastian handed me the rubbing alcohol and swabs, and he had the peroxide handy. "Fine."

Yeah, that was about as convincing as my answer. "Any or none?" I asked wondering if he was naturally avoidant. 

He was quiet for a moment, as he pulled a chair out to sit nearer us both. "Well, a lot, but I never felt..." He cleared his throat slightly. "I don't feel anything. They're like animals - I feel disgust sometimes, like I would at a particularly ugly dog, or wonder, depending on how it looks or smells. I tried explaining this to my sister once and she looked at me like I was mad." 

"You're immune to the glamour?" I asked and it was with genuine surprise. "Bloody hell, Seb." No wonder he had been resistant. Presumably he was immune to the direct contact but it did explain quite a lot. 

"I suppose that's it. It makes life bizarre," he offered, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Though I've shot some beautiful creatures. There's a really gorgeous pelt my sister's bringing over tomorrow that I'm proud of. I did feel disoriented after being fed from, you saw that."

"What did you see when you were being fed on? Both of you, tell me what the experience was like," Sherlock ordered, rubbing my skin with an alcohol wipe. 

It was cool as the alcohol evaporated. "The experiences were very different between the smaller one and the Great Old One, " I said. "The smaller one that took us both felt young or primitive. Hungry. And it didn't know whether to stick to its old favourite, or try out the new novelty. I can remember the whole process. The glamour doesn't fog my recall. Basically, it didn't have the experience to psychically stimulate victims so it would use its tentacles to physically do so, while pushing hard at the mind with the finesse of a sledgehammer." 

"In layman's terms," Sebastian said agreeingly, frowning slightly, "it liked to bugger the life out of you, and then force you to see pictures of the other side until it was done." 

"What he said. The...one before was much more into mind games," I said trying not to think about it. "Very skilled, more mature and... I don't really want to discuss that."  
It had been very skilled in the art of the ‘mind-fuck’ and torment.

Sherlock made a humming noise as he lowered the scalpel to start cutting, and I watched his motion. "And then there was the other one." 

"That was different." I shuddered, the recollection taking away the thought of the knife. "It was in my head beforehand, an immense presence but when we were over the aperture I could see the other place. In detail. Not an image I believe but the actual realm. Others were watching, three attendants to the Great Old One. One was very resentful of its feeding and felt it took more than it should. There was another broadcasting concern about... " I frowned. I hadn't really thought about it. "A plan that they had. It involved the thought of a lot of food." What did that mean? 

"Anything else?" Sherlock was starting to slice, curving his scalpel down with care. 

"There were metallic looking symbols and sigils arranges around the dais." They were etched on my mind. 

"Could you draw them?" Sherlock kept talking to me as he kept slicing, and in a quick flick of his wrist he'd taken his sample. He slipped it into the plastic sample plate. "There we go." 

"Yeah," I was pretty sure I could. "Afterwards." One thing at a time.

"Patch that up," he gestured, leaning back. "I'll be at my microscope." 

Of course, he'd leave me to treat myself. No point protesting about it and I had been distracted during the process. I was bleeding impressively for a small cut. 

It was as if it was drawing more blood than it needed, more tiny capillaries involved than should have been there naturally. Sebastian offered me another bit of gauze, and some antiseptic. "You're next, Colonel." 

"No need to take too much of it, " I said. I wasn't even really feeling what Sherlock had done. 

"Thanks," Sebastian offered, holding out another bit of gauze with his good hand. "Does it feel anything?" 

"Not really," I said. "I guess a lot of the area is sensation impaired." Scar tissue could do that if it was deep enough. I did wonder if there would be any visible difference in the tissue sample, that would be interesting. 

"Mine aches." Sebastian was looking less sure as he sat there, but Sherlock was preparing his sample busily over in the corner. 

"Oh, I thought you meant what Sherlock had done," I felt a little foolish. "Yeah I get a lot of strange sensations depending on what I've been doing. Hurts like hell if I've walked on it a lot. Burns sometimes." 

"I have a good old-fashioned bullet wound at my hip and it doesn't hurt." He ran a hand through his hair, still watching me, rather intently. "Is it bleeding less?" 

"Yeah, It's okay." It was easy enough to clean it off and stick a gauze on it. " At least it is keeping Sherlock quiet." A minor miracle in itself. 

He chuckled, and sat back a little. "Where else have you been stationed, John?" 

"I've been to the middle east," I said. "Was part of the Pan-Asian Conflict - what a bloody mess that was, Europe..." I shrugged. "Had a mate who called me 'Three continents Watson for some reason. I've been on active duty since I was 23, so any of the bigger actions since then I've been stationed in the active zone." 

"Schooling first, of course." Sebastian's critical gaze continued, his eyes lingering over me in a casual way. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, only that he was thinking. "I'm just thinking that I miss it. Which is bizarre."

"The army are more of a family than your own families sometimes," I said. Definitely in my case. "I don't miss the consequences but the people, yeah." 

"Have you rung round to any of your mates from the unit?" It was a little like having a senior officer give me the You Doing All Right chat, which was sort of laughable given our circumstances, but old habits die hard, I supposed. 

I quirked a bit of a smile. "Haven't really had chance. Mike might be back in London. How about you? Got anyone except for your sister to look up." I should not be as interested as I actually felt in the answer. 

"No, just people I used to play cards with. Might wait until I'm feeling a bit more together before trying my hand at cards. Nasty habit. I funded a lot of my hunting expeditions that way." Sherlock was wandering back to us, and Sebastian tracked his movement with his eyes. 

"Anything interesting?” I asked interested despite myself. 

"Yes. Quite a few. Mostly pictures - a lot of them, when they're dead, they dissolve. I had one body turn to a fine dust on me. But I have a few pelts you might be able to work out what they were. There was this tiger-creature with quills that whistled like music. It was beautiful, and red and oil slick colours." 

"I'd like to see them sometime...after I've brushed up on classifications," I answered. I could see the appeal of hunting them though - there was something viscerally right in killing something Other. 

It was also borderline seditionary. One had to speak of these things in the right way, accepting their dominion over us while admitting that their vermin, like ours, were best disposed of.

"Shirt off," Sherlock murmured, gesturing to him. 

Seb stripping off his shirt was something that made my mouth go dry. Scars were not something I found unattractive, and Seb looked...well like a warrior. I could only imagine what he would look like when he regained his muscle mass. 

The last time I had seen him shirtless, the circumstances were less than ideal, now he was scrubbed clean, almost pink, and was starting to look like a living being rather than a corpse for feeding. The scars on his arm and his side were dark and circular against fish white skin, like infected pockets laid at the centre, and divoted in. "Very different...." 

"It's like some sort of pigment tattooed under the skin," I said out loud. The more I looked the more the pattern did look deliberate. 

"Oh." Sherlock hummed, looking thoughtful as he wielded his scalpel. "Hold still for me, try not to be ill," Sherlock said. "You can observe if you participate John. It would be useful to see if your newly awakened sensing ability has any input." 

It was a relief but also disconcerting. It was only in the complete absence that I realised I had become accustomed to a low-level hum of presence of whether it was. The world obviously had a natural level. My stomach grumbled a little and I concluded I couldn't just lie on my bed all day no matter how comfortable it was. Time to brave socialisation. 

I moved closer to Seb. Sherlock seemed oblivious to the fact that we might have issues with some things. Maybe I could take his mind off of things. "So, you're meeting your sister tomorrow?" 

"Haven't seen her in about a year and a half," he agreed with me, keeping his eyes on some distant point past Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Is she married? Kids?" I asked trying to keep him occupied. "Are you an Uncle Seb?" 

"Two, a niece and a nephew. Tommy and Anna. Her husband's a local police sergeant." He winced, just around the eyes as Sherlock started to cut. 

"What about the rest of your family, anyone else you'll be looking up?" I queried, mentally considering I ought to let Harry know I was back. Though there was a 50/50 chance that she wouldn't give a rat’s arse. 

Even if she did, I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with her just then. "My father. He'll make his appearance known eventually. You know that stiff backed blustering three star the Prussian Forces had...? My father makes him look like a kitten, oh, bugger..." 

"Now look at that!" Sherlock pointed out gleefully. 

"That's...not usual," I said. The marking was still present in the tissue despite the cut. "Don't go any deeper Sherlock... you're right, it's still embedded."

"Can you feel the magic on them?" he asked, leaning back to package up that sample as well.   
I felt a little self-conscious as I waved my fingers over the small excision and they tingled as if there was a mild electrical charge and the hum in the back of my head became louder. "Yes."   
"And can you describe it?" Sherlock's eyes were hot on me, while Sebastian's good hand lingered over the fresh injury site, attempting to touch. 

"Like electrical charge prickling at the skin, and I feel the hum at the back of my head like I did before," I said reluctant to delve deeper. It unsettled me again, bringing back memories of the sacrificial altar.

It felt like an uneasy surge lapping at the back of my mind. Sherlock made a thoughtful noise and walked away from us both. "That other feeding on you, Sebastian, was up to something." 

"Do you have any idea what?" I asked treating the wound swiftly. "Sorry, it might sting a little." 

"It saw something in you. They both did, my brother will be very interested..." He was sitting down in front of the microscope as Sebastian held still for me to blot at the blood. 

"You okay?" I asked Seb. "Have some of your drink." I taped down the gauze thinking about what Sherlock was talking about. I was going to have to research things but Royals could do things with energetic forces that still remained a mystery. 

"I think I needed a stronger drink," Sebastian half joked. "Thanks." 

"Yeah, coffee is not going to cut it really," I answered acutely aware Seb had run up the stairs to help me, not because he had agreed to this. "I think there is beer in the fridge. I didn't buy whisky." 

"Beer's excellent," Sebastian said, standing up and half clutching at his arm. "There used to be a really good pub down off of, uh... Dorset street, used to brag on the ingredients in their brew." 

"This is just Supermarket stuff." A lot of pubs brewed their own, just as their recreational narc blends were a closely guarded secret. I went and fetched one from the fridge for him and myself. 

I hadn't asked Sebastian about his thoughts on recreational Narc; he seemed a little bit of the my body is a Temple sort, to a limit. We settled on the sofa, away from our bloody little quick surgery spot.

"Once had a brew that the landlord swore had slithers in it," I said trying to lighten the mood. Why anyone would put those shadowy snaky vermin in a beer I had no idea, but then I'd heard of Nobles breeding them as pets. It was a bit difficult because cats of any type, no matter how domesticated would fly into a rage and shred them if they got near them. 

"Ugh, why would I want to drink that rot?" Sebastian laughed, and he seemed to be relaxing. 

"No, worst thing ever is someone was soaking a supposed relic from the Eater of Names in their brewing bag." 

"Did it taste like shit?" I asked. That just sounded disgusting. "Some of the Afghanistan narcs definitely had Other stuff in them. Used to get soldiers in all the time, thinking they were taking like a normal day dose, and off their heads." 

"Yeah, hazard of buying it off the local economy. When I was there as a kid, we had a family friend who'd bring some of that around and put it in a water hookah. Took some of the teeth out of it." He made a gesture with his good hand, and sipped at the beer I had brought over. "Done right, like the locals did, it was very mellow." 

"You tried it?" I was always wary. Harry had taken to it like a duck to water but I was never keen on the feeling of being out of control.

"Everyone did it in the consulate. There was a... nervous energy to the place otherwise. Damn building was built over three intersecting ley lines, and all the families and the ambassador and workers were all housed there." Just thinking about it made me feel uneasy. 

Three ley lines? They must have been crazy, or did it deliberately to tap into something. Everyone knew leylines were like the nether plane equivalent of continental faults. You got more energy from them, but they were risk factors for phase rips. 

It was probably visible on my face, and Sebastian nodded as he shifted in the sofa. "The empire was trying to keep its foothold secure then, and we'd do anything, channel anything."

"One thing to perform rituals on that spot, but to live there. No wonder they were narc-ing." I said and took a drink of the beer. It tasted amazing after all the time without any. "We had an idiot of a military engineer, who built an outpost splat bang over one level 2 leyline. It took me ages to work out why I had half the squad in my infirmary every morning with the terrors." 

"Mmm. It got to mum, and about half the staff in the end, Rebecca was mostly all right, and my father and myself. That much terror, I can't imagine what it felt like." Sebastian took a sip, watching me still. His shirt was mostly back on now, but I realized belatedly that my trouser leg was still half rolled up. 

"That does indicate some sort of patrilineal genetic immunity," I said. "The weird thing is trying to work out which blend will work to deal with that energy." 

"Trusting the locals seemed the best bet with that terror. I wish I knew what the blend was now, a bit. Would be nice to sleep better." 

"You're having more nightmares about the physicality of the abuse, than the unseeing terror of the other side," Sherlock noted from his desk. "I suggest you find a doctor to give you both a good subcutaneous dose of Ketamine." 

"And blow out my kidneys? No thank you," I said immediately. I'd seen too many locals and youngsters who got hooked on pure ketamine and blew out their kidneys and bladders.

"Medically induced," Sherlock sighed, "the Americans have been doing research on it, it's quite good for ptsd." 

I hadn't even thought about it in relation to myself. "I'll see how it goes," I said and grimaced. It made it difficult to use narcs when you saw the way a simple socially allowable dose just to get you through the day escalated.

"I'll leave the journal on your bed. Clearly, you're behind on your medical reading. Just one dose." Sherlock swapped the plates. "Yes.... yes. James will enjoy seeing this."

"Greeeat," I drawled. Even a small bit of beer was mellowing me out very rapidly. My alcohol tolerances were low, very low. 

It was best to enjoy it while it lasted. Sadly, I was gently tipsy, and Sherlock was going on out loud, thinking I supposed. "It's indicative of a very specific bloodline, the associated cell degeneration in both of you."

"Cell degeneration?" That didn't sound good. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, well, look at the two of you. Chattering about like unfearful schoolboys, you might as well be of royal blood, but you aren't. If you were the Others, what would you do with you?" 

I frowned. "Sherlock, what are you trying to say? We know we're resistant, we know that's unusual. But there are Companions and Consorts and so on, it's not unheard of." 

"But you're not companions, are you?" Sherlock asked. "Is your family of Companion stock?" 

I shook my head. "No, definitely not." If we had Companion blood, we wouldn't have lived in a shitty flat in a practically derelict building. Companion blood meant status. 

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. "Family's always served the crown, but we were never companion stock." 

"I'm pretty sure Companions aren't resistant to the glamour; the Royal's just don't need to use it as much." I frowned a little starting to realise that a resistance in purely human stock might be of interest to the Royals in a variety of ways. "So, is this something they do to Companions?" 

"Yes, it makes the companions more..." Sherlock seemed to be searching for a word, and I watched him. "Compliant." 

A leash then. "So basically, a brand is what you are saying - Maybe it enhances communication or something? Or opens up something latent?" Might explain why he could suddenly sense magical forces. 

"It is transformative in nature - which does make me wonder. If you can sense magic, Sebastian can...?"

"Buggered if I know," Seb offered, and finished his beer in a swig. 

"Nullify the glamours?" I suggested. "I don't know. Maybe he is immune to that too." Or maybe it strengthened his resistance. 

"I never noticed them to begin with," he said, leaning forward to put his beer on the coffee table. "So, no bloody idea."

"I see." Sherlock seemed particularly dubious of that. 

"But when they were in full contact, it did overwhelm the resistance," I said. "I remember asking you if you were overwhelmed...and you said you were usually insensible for a couple of minutes." 

"And I was." He leaned back in the sofa a little, and Sherlock hummed. 

"Were you insensible or were you more naturally unconscious?" 

That was a point, it could have easily been that, but then that made it abnormal that I remained conscious. I frowned. "Logically it could have been… but then how was it I did not fall lose consciousness or… recollection." 

Sherlock had an imperious look on his face as he turned to me. "Did you lose consciousness with just that Other, or all of them that you've run into?" 

"I didn't lose consciousness," I replied. "On any of the others. I remember all of it. " Couldn't forget it, but that was how I knew the details of the other realm we glimpsed. 

"I..." Sebastian rubbed at his temple. "I don't know. I don't think I lost it with any of the rest of them. I didn't at the last sacrifice spot. But that one, he, it...?" 

I could feel him almost struggle with the words. 

"Maybe that was the reason for the marks?" I suggested. "To weaken you? Or something?" 

"Or perhaps it was trying to breed with him." 

Sebastian's expression turned a bit tight, and he started to stand up. "I'll just get myself another beer or five if that's how this is going..." 

"No, but if it was taking something -your skin is particularly divoted as well as patterned. It might've been looking for a blood source, creating pocketed cells from you, ruining your blood sugar for a start..." 

"Did they not check that at the hospital?" I interrupted horrified at the thought that they might have missed something that fundamental. 

"No, he was checked. But I believe the creature might've been sampling him, and perhaps it was incubating these... cellular samples in itself. Depending on what else it was taking from you Sebastian, it might explain the unconsciousness." 

I had killed not only a Royal but offspring between Seb and itself. I found it somewhat nauseating to think about. If there was cross breeding, the histories showed it to be the human that give birth. I grimaced, remembering the bitter metallic taste of ichor in my mouth. 

"I think I'm going to be sick." Sebastian half tripped over the coffee table as he jogged toward the bathroom past the kitchen. I couldn't guess what had struck him, but it was a similar feeling deep in my chest just then. 

"I think that's enough Sherlock," I said getting up. We'd been cooperative, we'd done what he wanted. That would do. If I felt sick, then Seb would be heaving his guts up and the least I could do was go after him. 

I wasn't sure if he'd want reassurance or not, I didn't expect to find the bathroom door not quite closed, or Sebastian clutching tight to the toilet bowl as he gagged over it, half-laughing and half crying. 

"Hey..." I didn't want to touch him and trigger a reflex that would end up with me face first in the wall. "You need help?" Then I rested my hand on his back trying to be soothing. It was a bit tentative at first. 

"Ovipositor. That's what it, the damn thing was still stupid..." Sebastian was still laughing, gagging again, and then coughing, grabbing toilet paper to wipe at his mouth. 

I rubbed his back knowing that helped. "Thank fuck it was," I said. "Otherwise we would never have made it out." Small mercies but mercies nonetheless. 

He'd thrown up beer, mostly, and what looked like chewed toast, and he was shaking beneath my hand. "Chaat. It really was trying to..." 

"Don't think about it," I soothed trying not to think about it myself. I would have been next. "You're okay, You're home and safe."

"Am I?" He gagged a little more, and mostly sat still shaking, finally sitting back a little. "Bugger."

"As safe as we can be," I said and sat down with him putting an arm around him. I noticed Seb was pretty physical in how he communicated, even after everything. 

I wasn't at all feeling that way, but I could accommodate and adapt, and he leaned into me, easing back from the toilet. "Protected by magic and royal bloods." 

"And I'll watch your back, and you can watch mine. We managed the impossible, together didn't we?" He'd gone cold from the emotional shock and I pulled him close to warm up. 

He gave a shaky laugh, and wrapped his good arm around me, holding me frighteningly close. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we can do this." And Sherlock was helping, even if he was an ass. 

"In a bit, I'll get you up and we'll go down to yours and you can rest," I said. "That's one of the best things you can do right now. " I could stay if he wanted, it wouldn't be a hardship. 

"Right. Thanks." It wasn't far, and I could get the rest of Sherlock's thoughts later. He was still busy thinking them, probably, and could do without the interference of boring humans in the meantime.

* * *

As best as I could tell, my time at Baker Street was going to be stressful in random occurrences. Every interaction with Sherlock was stressful, and I didn't know how John dealt with him - never mind that he was of royal blood. He was just a superior, hovering arse.   
James on the other hand was a much more personable superior arse, although I still wasn't convinced that he was particularly stable. There was something in his eyes that reminded me of some of the soldiers I had known over the years who never ended up well. 

He was all wound up and just needed someone to take their hand away so he could go skidding off across the floor, like a wind-up toy car being held back. I wondered when it would show itself, and what sort of mania he was prone to when it hit. 

On the good side, while I was waiting for my sister, it seemed it wasn't going to strike just there and then.   
I found myself internally anxious about seeing her and I wasn't sure why. It was almost as if in my mind, I was back to being her younger brother waiting for her to bail me out again. She had been highly irritated by the restrictions on the behaviour of young women and girls expected by the empire and had cheerfully ignored them most of the time. She had a hell of a punch too.   
And in the handful of days since release from the hospital, I hadn't done a lot of recovery, the day before had been day spent day drinking with John down in the quarters I shared with James and then theorizing with James after he'd come back in to join us. 

John looked like it made his head ache as James spun wild theories out of thin air, it made mine too, but that could have been the alcohol. John had looked fragile at breakfast to say the least.

Knowing Becca was coming, was enough to get me up and tidying the flat. Like I had someone to impress. And like it was really possible to tidy up, what with the tiny antiquarian skulls and then there was the dice that was carefully stacked under glass on the mantel that, on closer inspection, looked to be made of some sort of large, cube shaped knuckle bones. My animal skins would fit in quite well.

Still, it was clean, the dishes done, the work surfaces wiped down no sign of take out strewn around. James’ papers were tidied into piles and I practically snorted at my ridiculousness.

When the knock at the door came it was almost an anti-climax. 

It was a relief, because I'd run out of things to do. I threw it open and just as I expected, there stood my sister with a rolling footlocker of my things. 

And I had no idea what to do with it. 

"Seb!" Apparently, she did, just launching herself at me. Compared to me she was short at 5ft 8 but it felt solid and familiar and everything the last however many months had not been. 

I wrapped my good arm around her, and held her close. It felt good to hold her, to know she was still well and the world hadn't gone entirely to shit in my absence. 

She hugged me for a suspiciously long period of time and then her partially muffled voice said, "If I carry on like this I'm going to get snot all over your new jacket." 

"It's a cheap new jacket," I joked, leaning back a little to peek at her. "Hello, Becks." 

"Gods of the netherworld, you look..." She studied my face. "Like shit." Our father had despaired of her manners. I think he had secretly hoped presenting her at Court, but she would fend off that plan with an adroitly dropped swear word within earshot of the right people. I knew bloody well that Becks could play the part when she needed to. 

But there was need and want. "I know." I made a shrug with my bad arm as I pulled away. "Come in, come in..." 

"Let me get this inside. Surprisingly bulky, the entire contents of your life," she said lightly dragging it in with a determined look. She looked good, not much different from the last time I'd seen her. 

That made me happy to see, and I was glad that she'd come alone this time. I was going to struggle with conversation as it was without it being inane polite conversation. "Or surprisingly few, given that it fits in a box," I quipped, and closed the door behind her. "Sorry, I'm shit for dragging right now. Still building up muscle strength." 

"When have I ever let you take something I could move myself?" Becks said to me as she came in. Her own bag was rested on the top and she was careful of it. "On the up side.... Tada!" She produced like magic a coffee cup that I knew instantly was going to be my favourite, that we'd used to sneak out of the compound as teenagers and get. The smell was unmistakable. 

"How...? Bugger, never mind, thank you." I reached for it with care with my good hand. Hilariously my bad arm started to spasm a little, like a tail that took off wagging on its own. 

"Careful," Becks said. "Found a place that does the real imported coffee. Tried it and it was exactly like being there...Here sit down, you've obviously overstressed your arm already." 

I hid a muffled chuckle, and sat down on the sofa that was my usual spot, gesturing for her to take the spot John usually had. "Getting up in the morning over stresses it." 

"You said you have physio recommended? When are you starting that? Did they give a prognosis?" My sister always got straight to the heart of it which was a refreshing change to all the dancing around most people did seeing John and I were injured veterans. 

"Nerve damage, bit of muscle damage. Scar tissue they'll have to work through." I sipped at the coffee, watching her and feeling at ease at having her with me. "Bastard was having meals off that side and it didn't go well for me."

She leaned in, looking directly at me with a gaze very familiar from our growing up together. "You know I'm not going to force details out of you but you want to give me an overview?" I never did have to go into much detail with her, she was adept at reading between the lines. 

"I was taken at a shura -I think they took the lot of us for sacrifices, and from what I can tell I'm the only survivor. Spent the entire time I was missing down in a cave complex with one of their Old Ones. They transferred John in with me, and we made a rush to escape. And... luckily, there was an attack on the sacrificial ring at the same time we were running for it." Quick, brisk, and I savoured the taste of real quality coffee.

"The reports said there had been a broken covenant and you and allies had been taken, and other soldiers," Becks replied. "I was notified before it hit the press. They basically told me you were a write off." She shook her head. "It was a long time...and the statistics are bad even for a short incarceration, you know that."

"I do." I took another sip of the coffee, holding it close. "I thought I was going to die down there, it was just a question of if it was going to be a long death or a... longer death." 

I saw the muscles in her throat tense as she swallowed and nodded. "To get you back talking… lucid..." She cleared her throat and asked directly. "How many marbles got lost in the process?" 

I shook my head, pushing back the gut urge to feel offended. "All still in my head. Where they should be." 

"Well that's an improvement on what things are usually, " Becks said. She gestured. "How did you find this place?" 

I flashed her a smile and struggled to remember the lie I told her the first time. "Officer from the hospital gave us a heads up on some available spaces. Since these were two vacancies close to each other..." 

She was giving me a look. "You are a horrible liar Seb, seriously. Come on, tell me" 

"Officer in the hospital told us these had been arranged for us because they didn't know what else to do with us," I amended, taking another sip of coffee and sighing. 

"And who is staying with you?" she asked leaning forward. 

"Maths professor," I reiterated. "And John's upstairs with a 'consulting detective'. They're quite all right." Bit odd, but she'd realise that if she met them. 

Her face froze a moment. "Consulting detective? Chaat, you're living with Sherlock Holmes?" She looked stunned. 

"No, no, John is. Upstairs." I took another sip. "We're sort of in and out of each other's rooms. I get the feeling that James and Sherlock work together, only I think if they had to live together there'd be a murder." 

"You have no idea... James... Jim Moriarty." She shook her head. "I work for bloody Mycroft and he didn't even tell me!" 

I felt oddly relaxed as I heard the words, even if it gave me a distinct feeling that the wolves were closing in on me. "Mycroft. The iceman. Do you know what kind of royal Sherlock is? It's bothering me that I can't put my finger on it." 

"Nothing is confirmed," Becks answered. "We've been speculating for years. There's talk that there are multiple strains in the Holmes line and he's some sort of unique hybrid." She shook her head. "Keeping tabs on the latest batch of Holmes offspring is a full-time job for someone in the Government. They vet all applications for contact and for reproduction." 

"Then have we been vetted? James is quite human." No magical humming according to John except when he'd done that thing where he'd snap and light a cigarette for himself or me. That shit was just showing off. 

"Must have been. Mycroft watches out for his young brother. The two of them go to great lengths to piss people off. Moriarty is a Queens Favourite - attributed a lot of victories to his work and he is brilliant. A world-renowned scientist and Royal Mathematician." 

"No questioning it, he is a genius." He half hoped she'd get to meet him, because he was... something else. "That reminds me, you said my pelts made it." 

"Bundled up, less stinky," Becks promised wrinkling her nose. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Take one look at the decor in here and then lie to me and say that some of it would it look amazing on the walls." It might piss James off and it would please me to see them in my room if nothing else. 

They had been Other, and now they were conquered and mine. It was a possessive emotion that new strength in light of my ordeal as a way of proving to myself I had been a force to be reckoned with, not helpless or out of control. 

"It does have a certain stylistic similarity," Becks answered. She smiled at me. "Go on, give me the blow by blow about how you hunted it. You've got that gleam in your eye." 

"No, no, and haven't I given it to you already?" It was fifty fifty on whether the post had actually ever reached her. I set the coffee cup down after another sip, and moved to the foot locker to open it. "I actually got you a couple of scarves, a couple of knickknacks for the kids."

“Strangely enough the delivery of your possessions only came with the explanation that you were most likely dead or at the least incurably insane,” Becks said. “Not with the stories behind the objects in there.”

Right. I forgot sometimes that I was supposed to be dead. "Ah, well..." I moved to sit on the floor, popping the top open. "Do you want to go through it together?" 

"Yeah, I'd like that. That way things might even get put away," Becks teased me. 

"It's about all I can manage," I pointed out, sitting cross legged and making a show of fussing with the locks. "If Sherlock and James weren't sure something could be done with this arm, I'd've had it cut off and been done with it." 

"So, they reckon it can be rehabilitated?" Becks asked. "That's something...I mean, it's hope at least." 

"Mmm. It is hope. They think it's fixable." I took the effort to lift it, high enough to flip a lock open, and decided that was physical therapy for the day. I'd stretch it later in the shower. The lid came open easily after that, and the box smelled like leather and dust. 

Immediately though, there was something very grounding and solid about my things. They brought back memories that had been dulled by the sharpness of trauma. It was tightly packed full, and Becks obviously had kept up some of her fitness to be able to move it up the stairs.

Instinctively I went looking for my gun, my own gun 'ornamental' although I could fix that in about two seconds.

I'd do that later, but I was glad to have it again, and as I cradled it across my lap, I felt better. Grounded, even if it was useless to me. "Ah, that's good to have back." 

"After I've left later, you'll spend the evening fondling and oiling your gun?" Becks asked me, and then gave a smirk. "If you know what I mean."

"I will. Right out here in the open on that chair," I agreed, grinning. It was time to move on to the rest of the box, the furs were next, carefully separated and wrapped and it looked like that was as far as my sister had gotten.

"Pervert," Becks said with a grin back. "So what furs are those...and tell me you had all of them cured properly." 

"Yeah, I did. After that happened to the one I did myself..." It had been fun and messy but maybe I'd learn on something less precious after that first botched job. "These were professionally done and this..." It laid on top, a shimmering tiger fur with feathery additions and a faint pink sheen like a beetle’s shell. 

"Ooo." Becks reached out to touch it, stroke through the gliding fur. "That's a real beauty. And soft. What did it look like?" 

"Like water in motion." I lifted it gently free of the others, and made a slinking motion with the skin like it had made to see the light ripple over it in a rainbow sheen. It was a huge skin, and the feathers jutted out when it wasn't lying perfectly flat. "She was beautiful. I chased her down." 

"On foot? How big was she? Looks about... at least tiger sized, if not more," she said sizing up the skin. "Let me guess you chased her alone?" 

"Yes. Down a drainpipe, and this rifle here..." I walked the pelt back, and wrapped it with care. I'd have to go out to the shops tomorrow to get the mounting gear for it. "Killed her. She was terrorizing a village." 

She gave me a light slap to my good shoulder. "Idiot… you are meant to have back up. We've talked about this before. Well, shouted about it." She still smiled though. "Gods, that's a beautiful pelt. If you were ever broke, that would get you enough to buy a small house." 

"I know. She's going up on a wall. Maybe just my bedroom. I'll put a couple of the others up in here..." I didn't have to sell pelts and I could manage but oh, she was gorgeous. 

I could remember that blood pounding excitement and heightened awareness that came with the hunt, the way her movement had glimmered in the darkness. The brightness of teeth and sudden glowing green eyes...the gush of warm blood rather than cold ichor and the swell of primal triumph that made me want to roar at the sky even though she clawed me over the chest.

"Once more your room will be covered in furs." Becks smiled. “So, what do you want me to cook when you come over to mine. Because you are coming over asap. I need to feed you up.”

"Yes, I missed that. Fuck regulations, eh? I'm rather a free man now." Not that much had interfered with what I wanted to do before. But I was looking for a positive spin to my current circumstances, and continued to rummage down through the chest.

"What are you going to do?" Becks asked. "I'm not sure I can imagine you not in the forces." I'm not sure I could either but that was a done deal already. I was out by default. 

I had no choice, and injured as I was they were unlikely to take me back. My long military career was over, ended with me as a colonel, medically retired. "James said something about needing a bodyguard. I don't rightly know what I'll be doing." 

"Moriarty?" Becks considered. "He does have a tendency to cause havoc. And Sherlock. We're constantly following up on the pair of them. Moriarty tends to like to manipulate things from what I can see. He single handedly stabilised the Trafalgar square rift with some rapid calculations on the fly. Most experts claim it was impossible." 

"I believe it. I have seen him do a little work, mostly showing off so far and it's still very impressive." The calculations required to do magic on the fly like that were impressive, and he had been the one to work out that the sacrifices going on at the temple where John and I were kept were interfering with air support. 

He liked to be appreciated, I could tell that. So did Sherlock. John said they both liked to have someone to be brilliant at, and each other to compete with. "It might be interesting enough for you. You'll need a firearm or something, because they are often sent out to investigate weak spots. Work out what rituals need to be done to close them up." 

"I need a pistol. I'll have to source one." I was going to have to face the reality of one-handed mess. 

"I'm sure that can be arranged for you. Mycroft is very good at that," she said leaning over and poking in the trunk. "Still looking for my present." 

"Oh, it’s..." I leaned up and dig below the books. It took care to remove it, but wrapped in brown paper were the scarves. 

"A mystery parcel, I do like a mystery," Becks said leaning in to peer at what I had found. "For me?" 

"For you," I agreed handing it over, before turning to look for the gifts for the children. 

She rustled at them opening the handcrafted scarves I had bought from one of the sellers in the market over there. They still had a faint whiff of the spices about them. "They're beautiful Seb." She smiled. "Just as well you are alive because I wouldn't have been able to wear them otherwise. 

"Yes, well, no maudlin required. I'm relatively fit as a fiddle." I couldn't help but smile at her and then went back to digging. "These figurines are puzzles..." 

"For the kids? They'll love them," Becks leaned back. "You can give them to them yourself if you come over to dinner. Proper Albion roast dinner." 

"Oh, I've missed that. I've been working up to better food." I'd had a few stomach-related bumps, and unwell moments, and so had John, but once you started to eat real food again it was hard to stop. 

"Maybe next weekend? Give yourself a week to get bored. The kids will be unbearable with excitement," she said. "I can do that and a dessert to request."

"Oh, anything. Anything. Can I bring John? I want to share the wealth of normality with him if I can." He was a complete stranger, though it was hard to tell if she minded. 

"Of course, you can, though I reserve the right to raise my eyebrows at you," Becks said. 

"Why?" I glanced over at her and only caught the gist after I looked at her. "No, no. We, uh, we've, no." 

"Oh, I detect a hint of fluster there," she teased. She was like a cat pouncing on the merest suggestion of anything. "You might not have done anything but you might be interested?" 

"I might, but the circumstances of our captivity make it a rather unappetizing thought." I leaned into the case to pull out the books and random pieces of my life that had been packed away from my quarters. 

"But you like him? As a person?" she persisted. "Does he like you?" She wasn't going to let it go despite my clear signal. 

"Yes, I like him as a person, and I believe he likes me." I handed her a slightly dusty book of Afghan folklore that I'd gotten read and mostly finished while abroad.

"Oo thanks," Becks said. "You want me to put any of this anywhere for you?" 

"Probably a pile in my bedroom," I sighed. "It feels important that John and I stick together." 

"You went through a very traumatic experience together," Becks said. "And came through it. You probably have a connection. Give me your other books, I'm finding a shelf in there.” 

I dug down, and it was bizarre, the odd books I had. A field manual or two, notebooks from meetings, filled with my tight handwriting, a few hunting guides, and more folklore and local stories than any man would rightfully want to admit to. 

I found them fascinating, and quite often they had a kernel of truth that could be useful in terms of reconnaissance. Stories of haunted hollows, or groves often meant a naturally fluctuating rip affected by phases or astrological conjunctions. Of course, we now had the science and equipment to identify and document those areas.

"Right..." She wandered through the door. "Nice enough, if sparse... shelf, shelf...ah there we go." She came back. "What else can we put away?" 

"Clothes?" I knelt up carefully, to help, but carrying things wasn't quite something I was good at anymore. Except in small amounts. 

"Here, I'll carry, you come and direct where you want them," she said. It was her way of being supportive, I knew that. As a family we didn't talk much about emotions. Difficulties were dealt with hugs, practical help that might not be strictly to do with anything. 

She was taking care of a niggling task, helping me with it, and I appreciated doing it with her as I reached for the case handle with my good hand to help drag it closer to the bedroom.  
I knew she wouldn't stop me trying at least, though if I couldn't she would just step in without making a big deal. It had been years before I realised I did that with my squad without thinking about it.

My bedroom was a reasonable size. Bigger than I had a right to expect in London where a matchbox sized room was a ridiculous amount to rent but it did look pretty sterile.   
Still, big enough that I could lock myself in with my own company and feel comfortable. A few more furs, and I could settle in completely. And possibly a shelf. "Thanks." 

"You'd only throw them on the floor," she answered. "Ah, socks in this drawer and pants... somethings don't change." 

I chuckled quietly. "I'm trying to stay predictable. And I like the colour." 

She was efficiently putting things away. It was a memory I had from many moves when out father was diplomatic liaison. If I took too long Becks would sweep into my room and pack it all away so we would be able to go out and look around the new place together. "At least this way I know what to get you as presents. And you do have a shelf. " She gestured. "Or there's this chest of drawers." 

"Shelves. I'll have to install another shelf." I moved to start moving books around with care on the shelf, and the locker would go at the end of the bed to hold more mundane things. It all worked every tidily, and we moved quickly at unpacking it. 

"Furs for the bed..." She said unrolling them. "I think you should keep your special away from the bed though. If you want to display it." 

"Just the cheap ones," I agreed, grinning a little. I saved another for display, that had the same possessed shimmer to it as the other, faintly green. "It's home." 

"Looks a bit more like it now. Thought it could stand a few more things in it. That'll come." Becks said. "I'll put those two up here to air... you're going to have to figure out if you are knocking nails in the wall or framing it. 

"Oh, uh, nails in the wall, but I need to check the hooks in the paws." Or what was close to paws. It felt warm and comfortable to be with my sister, just talking. Existing. 

She was going easy on me, I knew that. She could be challenging, teasing, stubborn as all hell, but there had been a long time when it had been us bringing ourselves up together. I couldn't help feeling at home with her there. She'd let me decide when I was ready to come around to her, but in the meantime, under the guise of being a bossy older sister I could tell that she was making sure that I was as set up and settled as I could be.

"Right...now let's get you online..." 

After my sister had departed, I carefully hung a couple of the nicer furs in the sitting room, and then started on trying to put together dinner. Or something like that. 

It was a haphazard attempt with a bad arm but I was capable of putting meat under the grill, making rice and stir fry from a packet. It was a work in process when the door burst open and James came in practically dancing. 

"Hullo!" I wanted to let him know I was there in the flat, that was all. 

"Sebastian!" He greeted me with a wide grin as he grabbed for a bottle of alcohol. "I....am a bloody marvel. Sherlock is going to turn himself inside out with envy..." 

I stirred the food with care, and kept watching him as he grabbed two stout glasses to fill with rum. "What did you solve?" 

"A security leak that has been in place for years under Mycroft's nose," he said splashing the alcohol in carelessly. "One for you....and one for me. And if you don't want it, two for me. Basic maths for the masses." 

"I'll take it." I jammed the spoon for the stir fry up against the handle of the pot, and grabbed the glass to raise it in a roast. "Cheers. What was the leak?" 

"Oh, a secretary who was secretly a mastermind arms dealer," James said taking a shot like an old hand. "Ridiculous but true. I kinda liked her. But I had to kill her. " He seemed almost gleeful. 

I suppose that faced with a traitor I would've done the same. I took a swig instead, and set the cup down not entirely finished. "Bugger. Been operating for years?" 

"Oh yes. Hijacking ops teams as well," James poured another shot. "The perils of making your admin team as intelligent as most people’s specialists because you can't stand the stupid. Mycroft was livid. Well mainly because I killed her." 

"She should've been put out for sacrifice sentencing," I half agreed, though a quick death was and wasn't more honourable than being served up on a platter. 

"Oh, he wanted to question her," James shrugged. "But you know, blood magic is messy and there wasn't much left to question. He gave a bright too wide grin. 

"Is that how you found out what she was doing? How does that work?" I picked up stirring again. It was almost done, and I threw a bit more pepper in it. 

"Never worked with a blood magic user in your teams?" James asked. "You use a bit of your own to prime the fire so to speak, and once you open it up on them, the power builds and becomes a feedback loop on their blood."

So, he was high on energy. 

"We didn't have a great deal of magic users in the field. We had the S10 shop of course, but good magic users who could do more than faff theory were as rare as good intel officers." I had no sense of it, I imagined that John would have felt it but it was like being deaf to one of our world's loudest symphonies. 

"Let me demonstrate..." In a flick of metal, a small but wickedly sharp ritual blade was twirling in his hand. "You decide what you want... would you like to feel really good Seb? I can make that happen, just a jolt." 

"All right." It was something to try, just to experience it. I turned the heat down on dinner.

"So, I use this to mark out one of the Unnameds sigils." I watched as the knife flickered on his arm. "If you're good at this you use some of the energy you raise to heal it without trace - and of course I am excellent at it. Then you calculate what you want to do and speak the appropriate incantations. Basically, it's a way to focus intent and then release its effect." He began chanting and a glowing light seemed to grow into a ball at the end of his fingers... and then, without warning he flicked it at me. 

It was surprising, a rush of energy that went right into my chest and oddly one shoulder, a burst of bubbling good feeling that made me laugh unexpectedly.

James stopped and looked at me. "Well, well, I was right... that should have had you on the floor writhing in ecstasy." 

"Huh?" That didn't make any sense to me, and I took another sip of the rum, finishing it off and appreciating the burn. I felt giggly, delightful, but not rolling on the floor. 

"You are semi-magic resistant. You've got mental armour not just to the glamours but magical effects. Oh, this is too good!" James was delighted. 

"Hurrah?" I chuckled, and gave dinner another stir, enjoying the mellow upbeat feeling as I got two bowls down with care. "It's served me well, then. Dinner?"

“...oh yes, food. Sounds like a good idea." He looked at his arm. "And I didn't get enough reflected to heal it properly." It looked like a scratch to me, scabbed up. "Food is good." 

"So, I didn't put it to use or reflect it back to you?" That was odd, that was very odd and I wondered why. It had always been that way, un interesting, but no one had ever flung magic at me before. 

"No. Not that I can tell from that," he said with a shrug. "We'll try some controlled tests at some point." 

"As long as it doesn't end with me dead," I said, handing him a bowl of food to eat. "I'm game." 

"Indeed, you are," James said taking a mouthful. "Not bad. Could use more rum." He poured another shot. "Sebastian the incredible nullifying man. Don't tell Sherlock, I'm going to think of a way to spring it on him so he falls flat on his face."

"I'll leave that to you." I got myself a bowl, and juggled it and the glass on the way to the sitting room and the small dining room table we had in there. "You don't know what it's like. I always feel like I'm missing something." 

"Aha, but if you were missing the capacity you would feel nothing which means either a stunted sensitivity, or a developed shielding to it that can strengthen or fade depending on how threatened you are feeling. I lean towards that because your sensitivity dropped to virtually nil during the encounter with the Great Old One." Jim said as he stuffed his mouth full of food.

I sprawled in the chair, feeling relaxed as I started to eat. "True. That's a lot more useful than just being numb to it. Oh, uh, you don't mind the pelts I put up, do you?" 

"I'm going to get them genetically analysed. I don't recognise that type," James said grinning. "I love finding out the new. Life can be so boring. I sometimes think if I didn't have all these things to fight and analyse I would have gone crazy with boredom." 

"After dinner, I'll show you my pride and joy. I need to reinstall the hooks in the paws," I murmured, finishing off my drink. "Shame there isn't much good hunting in London." 

"You'd be surprised. Besides, Sherlock and I will probably have to go up to Baskerville soon," James said. I noticed he had eaten his dinner at record speed. His conflict gave him an appetite it seemed. " I’m sure you've heard of there." 

Baskerville, bastion of wilderness, a pit of wild curled deep in the earth. It had been the site of druidic sacrifices, and then it had been a holy site of worship for a time for Chaat knew how long, and now it was a government black site. 

"If I can source a pistol, can I use it?"

"Oh, once you get your certificate of mental competence, you will still be entitled to use military firearms," James said. "Not that often heard of because not many get that certificate. You will. You're not drooling or anything." 

"What department do I need to ring for that?" He'd do it and drag John with him. "And what's important at Baskerville for you?"

"Oh, Mycroft will send some people," he answered airily. "And Baskerville is necessary to my research." I had no idea what type of research he could be doing to get that as a necessity to visit. 

"Is it the magic there?" I was more keenly interested in having a good reason to shoot an animal. Of some sort. 

"Among other things. Secret projects and all that. All very hush hush," he grinned a little manically. "Don't worry Colonel, there's always something of interest on those corrupted moors." 

"I enjoy a good hunt," I admitted, though the pelts should've made it obvious. "Now I just need to work out how to use a rifle one handed."

"I should be able to improve your arms functionality over time," James said confidently. "The problem is that it is a conjunction sensitive process. Sherlock has identified it as a form of Consort bond. If you remember your histories, when Victoria Gloriana bonded with her Consort, it was done at a very specific time and phase." 

"I'm not companion blooded." I protested it as I finished my dinner, casual and calm but feeling anxiety creeping up. 

"No, which is why I said it was a form of Consort bond." He mused a moment. "Think of it then as the energy equivalent of embedded narc release. You, dear Sebastian are a very valuable resource...if they could tame you. Basically, what we think happened is that you were tossed in like meat to one of the Old Ones spawn, who was enamoured of you and kept trying to make you it's consort. Your natural resistance was enough to prevent a full consummation, probably why you spent time insensible after the encounters...your mind was using its energy to reject the bond. Eventually, by whatever means, it came to the attention of the Great Old One connected to that site. I believe it was waiting to see if it could breed you...but when you were given to it, it embedded its own version into your skin which is exponentially more powerful." 

"Would amputation be a solution?" I halfway followed his story. "I, what did the Great Old One do?" 

James leapt up in a sudden move that made me twitch. "It does...this." he said brandishing some papers covered with scribbling, equations, astrological symbols. "It's a psychic choke chain." 

"That lets it do what to a mortal?" Chaat, the science behind it was something I'd need to work on -- physics and gravity were involved and also what looked like some kind of object movement. 

"Punishment and reward...a means of compliance. In theory I think it was looking for a way to erode your resistance to the glamour," James said. "Certainly, it would over time unless we remove it." 

"I see. And John as well...?" It gave our wounds a bit of a grimmer aspect than just scars that nagged. Something had followed us home. 

"Him we're not sure about yet. The scarring is different, but it'll amount to something similar I'm sure." James leaned forward. "We do not often have chance to exam such marks. Anywhere else would say it was impossible to deal with but I can calculate a counter ritual. It will be a challenge." It was as if I had given him the best gift in the world. 

"And it will have to be timed to a... circumstance like when it was inflicted?" We'd just have to wait and hope whatever creature it had been stayed in Afghanistan. 

"Probably to a phase and a conjunction, and lunar cycle," he shrugged. "It might take more than one go at it. The good news is you are naturally fighting it and making some headway." 

"And John being there matters at all? We were in this together." Same site, same amount of time... 

“It is entirely possible the same parameters will apply. All conjecture,” James said as if it was not our lives and sanity he was talking about.

But it was. I made a humming noise as I got up, and went to retrieve the bottle. “Another drink?”

“Mm. Rum is always good. With a banana.” He grinned. “I'm going to stick a banana in my glass and then set light to the rum. Want to try it?”

“Do I have to drink it if the banana is still on fire?” I'd acquiesce, because fuck it, why not? I'd wander upstairs later and see how John was. This was after all what counted for routine in Baker Street.

* * *

In the time I had been staying at Baker Street, I had learned that Sherlock's idea of what constituted convalescence was very different to that held by the rest of the world. I'd spent time running 'badly' through the streets of London either towards trouble or away from it, poking at dead bodies, helping carry Sherlock's vast ego around and generally being astounded by his genius. But right now, I wondered if he had actually flipped. “Baskerville? No one in their right mind goes to Baskerville."

"I do, and James does," he said, basically proving my point because he was clearly a nutter as well as a genius. "And Sebastian is nearly panting to go and shoot squirrels."

"Mutant bloody squirrels that glow in the dark and will take your head off if the papers are to be believed," I protested, though I had to admit I was intrigued. No one went to Baskerville unless they were thrill seekers. The people who lived in Baskerville village were a strangely hardy folk and survivors, toughened by the conditions and proximity to one of the most unstable rift areas in all of Albion.   
"Why are we going there?"

"Because." It was a sullen sort of answer that indicated Mycroft, or the Iceman as Seb insisted on calling him. "Because there is a mystery there."

"A case?" There probably was but in anything that Mycroft was involved in, there was always an added level of peril. “Honestly Sherlock, you're not even trying to fool me anymore."

"It's another mystery for you to blog about, John." Better than the flying top hat? I wasn't sure if it would be more fun.

"Fine." What else was I going to do with my time? Although missing dinner at Becks would be a genuine loss. Going there really felt like family. Harry of course was still being too 'attuned with the subtle energies' -- aka, narc’ed out of her mind to see me. Well, I'd seen her, but she hadn't seen me and I decided I'd tried, and my familial duty was done. "When are we leaving?"

"Soon as James gets back with the hire car and the dormice." There was a knock on the door, and he said, "and that will be Moran."

"Nothing like giving me notice," I said heading for the door to answer it. It probably was Seb at that.

He was grinning, broad and easy, looking quite relaxed as he held up a cage with three beleaguered looking dormice. "Baskerville."

"...I'd ask but I'm not sure why you are carrying around dormice," I said finding myself smiling just because he was smiling.

He was a contagious fellow, and I could see why his men had admired him and why he had a reputation, a generally good one, for being an officer and a bit of a lad. "Bait, of course. Eventually. I have leather thongs and leashes for them as well, because I don't agree with using bolts."

I was going to have to get a picture of that. "As I seem to be the only one who didn't know we were going to Baskerville, you can help me pack the extra's I might need,” I had packed for time away but now I was thinking I might need a medical kit as well.

"Think a night in the country and a bit of a camping trip. There's been... activity that James wants to look at and..." Sebastian looked excited. "There's been a great huge red wolf spotted. I was thinking we needed piglets, but James was insisting dormice."

"I just want to get some more supplies...medical kit, that sort of thing" I said. I'd started building it up by habit. Fortunately, Sherlock did tend to be well stocked due to his normal disdain for Hospital treatments.

"Do we need to go out for that?" Sebastian had, so far, wavered between cleaving close to the building and roving, and it was hard to tell what phase he was in.

"No, I have it, I just thought I wouldn't need it. Or my gun." That was a stupid assumption, I should have known better. Anywhere with Sherlock could potentially need a gun, or what soldiers called a vorpal blade.

Unfortunately, there was no agreed upon make up for such a knife. The military issued ones were standard, cheaply manufactured straight blades with basic runic patterns. In the old days they had been shaped obsidian - now, they were excellent steel, powder coated in obsidian, etched with the magical glyphs required to despatch Other beasts.

Sometimes they did more harm than bullets. I needed to get a decent one -- mine was standard issue. "Can you just grab my ruck there?" I asked as I went to my drawer. I wanted to take it all, but I limited myself to injury essentials and shock narcs.

"Sure." Sebastian juggled my ruck and the cage of mice, shouldering it smoothly while I sorted out what to bring. "I'll meet you downstairs? James has got me driving." 

"How's your arm feeling?" I asked as I packed a kit as instinctively as I had done back in combat. One experimental treatment from Jim and Seb had regained partial mobility in my leg though it was a long way from being completely cured. 

But it was more useful than curled near paralyzed against his side, and I'd attempted to talk him into doing physical therapy on a more regular basis. "Okay. Not going to drop the bait at least. How's your leg feeling?" 

"Getting there," I said. There were times I didn't notice it, and times where it hurt like hell. "Okay, shit where is my gun and blade? If Sherlock's nicked them again..." 

Sebastian chuckled and saw himself out, leaving me to rummage in peace. 

"I've done no such thing." Sherlock was shrugging into a coat and had a small black leather satchel at his feet and looking between the two of us. "It's a shame you're not dogs. Then we'd have puppies." 

"What?" I asked half distracted as I located my weapons and holster. I strapped them on, and felt a feeling of calm come over me. "What are you talking about?" 

"Yes. Yes, this is perhaps why we'd never actually get puppies." Sherlock stared at me, and I felt half mad and like an idiot except there were things he was thinking and not saying just then. I wasn't a mind reader. "Let's go."

"I'll assume you'll tell me what you're talking about at some point." I picked up my kit, sealing it up. "Right I think I've got everything." I followed him out of Baker Street to the car where Jim and Seb were apparently arguing over music. 

James was ... the polite word was ‘merry’, but the reality was manic, and it ebbed back to dark silences. All in all, Sebastian seemed to get along well with him, as I did with Sherlock. It was good luck, I supposed, that I could deal with Sherlock. He was sharp and eccentric, but watching him work had been amazing.

"Ugh, neither of you are allowed to pick claptrap to inflict on us." 

"You have an iPod for a reason," I pointed out as I settled in the front. In deference to my bad leg I assumed. 

It was nice of them, and Sebastian grinned as he hitched his seat forward in response to James kicking the back of his seat. "Oof, you're a short little bastard, how much room do you need back there?" 

"How else am I going to kick you in the head when you aren't going fast enough?" Jim replied. 

"I wonder if I packed any sedatives," I mused out loud. 

"Careful back there, you'll wear out your petite dancers’ calves with all the kicking." Loaded up and ready to go, I was dimly aware that Sherlock was sitting behind me, and that there were dormice making soft noises somewhere behind me as well.

Sebastian started the car up and grinned at me. "John can be the radio and iPod master." 

"I don't know if I can handle that responsibility," I said. "Life and death...yes, music channels, no." Sherlock would be on his phone and oblivious in minutes. Jim would probably put his iPod on. 

"Eh, put something on." Sebastian waved as he pulled into traffic, and he seemed calm and casual albeit driving us one handed. 

I turned on the radio and found a station and left it there. Sherlock and Jim were bickering in the back seat and it was like some bizarre family trip like the ones on TV. "Sorry, feel free to swap stations, this seems to be the least affected by atmospherics.” 

"We're lucky we get anything at all most days." Sebastian turned it down a fraction and I could almost enjoy it. We had carved out a strange niche for ourselves, and I knew I was shortcutting on things I needed to do to really get better, but it was thrilling. 

There was never a dull moment. "There will be nothing at Baskerville. Ever been there before?" 

"No, but my father's hunt used to range up that way and the old goat had some fantastic stories." I forgot, often, that Sebastian was clearly from money, but a childhood spent alongside a hunt spoke of certain things that made the metaphorical chip on my shoulder ache. 

"I think Baskerville is a step above even that." I said, remembering med school and the information we had to look at that had their origin in the depths of Baskerville. "We had to study a lot of case studies from that area."

"Human, or...?" I heard James sketching out something about arc motion, and Sherlock scoffing at him, but I tuned it out as Sebastian drove surprisingly well with one hand. He'd had to do it before in Afghanistan, I deducted, because he did something with his thumb as he spun the wheel that kept it from sliding. 

"Both." Separate, hybrid, beast, it was a hotspot of activity. It was one of those that appeared all over the world. Virtually every country had their Baskerville, or more than one. "Every type of Other you can think of and some you couldn't even imagine. Some people favour it as one of the original collision points. ...that's if you subscribe to the colliding universe theories." 

"I like the gateways theory." But he nodded because it was a difference of physics, not outcomes. Either way it was an accepted schoolboy science that our universe was enmeshed alongside that of the Others, because we could see the effects daily and whether it occurred accidentally or deliberately made little difference. "I'm excited to see what we'll find there. Mycroft's been skulking around downstairs with James." 

"I do not skulk," Jim said from the back seat. I was used to Sherlock calling him Jim, presumably to annoy him, that James seemed oddly formal. 

"No, you prance," Sherlock muttered not looking up from his phone. "Mycroft likes prancing about."

"I'm not sure I'd call it prancing," I said trying not to smile. Mycroft did not 'prance'. He stalked around and appeared where you least expected it.

"Mycroft skulked, and you sprawled in your arm chair and listened, and wrote all over notepads. It's your fault I'm reading maths books again, just to work out what's a doodle and what's something you need to file." Sebastian was playing every bit the assistant to James - Jim? - as I was to Sherlock. 

My contributions to Sherlock's life was to stop people throttling him, to be the supplier of tea, food and occasionally spark a thought with a random comment. Oh, and play experimental subject on occasion.

"Maths was not my favourite subject," I said. "I wouldn't stand a chance with understanding it." 

"There's maths in what you do with royal medicine. There has to be," Sebastian murmured, glancing over at me, but mostly keeping his eyes on the road. 

"Yes, but it's not the level Jim… uh, James uses," I replied. I knew enough to know what Jim did was like the works of Shakespeare compared to a first reader book. I was better at Royal medicine than a lot of my colleagues but I was starting to wonder if that was to do with the weird sensitivity I had. My ego however had no chance to flourish in Baker Street -there was nothing like hanging around a genius to convince you that you were as stupid as dirt. 

Sometimes I had to remind myself what I had been in the forces, how many men had depended on me and the responsibilities I'd had to assure myself that no, I wasn't a total idiot. I had saved lives, many lives and made it home against the odds. I wondered if it wore on Sebastian as much as it occasionally grated on me.

"No, but..." He made a vague gesture with his bad arm. "Still, you have an application." 

"Going to be trying out some basic magic with your maths?" I asked. "You never know we might need it." They taught us basic esoteric maths at school, to see if anyone had the aptitude. I'd avoided it like the plague, doing only what I had to do whereas Harry had seen it as a way to step up in society. Fat lot of good it had done her. 

I'd ended up vaguely all right in society, and my sister... my sister was lucky if she knew what year it was, and what her name was. There was a reason I avoided it. "Not sure I can."

"Yes, how would that work, a shielded person trying to throw magics?" Sherlock mused from behind me, which I took to mean it was sarcasm. 

"You don't *know* how it works," I pointed out a little smugly because both Jim and Sherlock were getting frustrated at this puzzle they could not solve in seconds. "So, who's to say he couldn't?" 

"That's what I'm counting on, when he's not liable to blow us all up twiddling with something. More reading is needed." Jim punctuated that with a hard whap to the back of Sebastian's seat. 

Yeah, the two geniuses were still struggling with us.

I often wondered that whenever Sherlock solved the mystery of what had happened whether that would be it, and I would be tossed out like an abandoned pet that wasn't amusing any more. I wouldn't put it past him. "Have you two been to Baskerville often?" 

"Never," Sherlock offered, and that shocked me because he seemed to know so much about it. 

"Outskirts, " Jim replied. "Mycroft was worried what I might do if I went in deeper, but that's where we're going this time." 

"And why is Mycroft thinking this is a good idea now...?" Sebastian glanced in the rear-view mirror. 

"Because I can't move forward with his project unless I see some raw data sources," he answered.

Observations did not seem too bad. 

"And it involves rodents on leashes." Sebastian seemed deeply amused by that still, and as a hunter, yeah, I could see the appeal. 

"He could just be doing that for his own amusement," I said smiling getting a visible of Seb with a hamster on a leash and harness. 

"If he is, he'll be very disappointed that it amuses me, too," Sebastian chuckled. James seemed to be smugly smiling, though, and I had a feeling that we... maybe we were bait. It was hard to tell. 

I was getting more of these feelings recently and I had no bloody idea what to do about it or even to mention it. "You'll have them named and feed them treats by the end of the day," I said. 

"How far is it to Baskerville?" 

"Four-hour drive, and some of it might be combat driving, because we cross a phase shift," he offered. "Which is why there's a gun in easy reach." 

I glanced at the gears, and automatic. I could probably drive if necessary. "If you want to swap so I drive and you shoot before we get there let me know."

"If we have to stop the car we'll be doing that anyway." Sebastian seemed appreciative of that offer. "And you and James can watch my back." 

I was glad I'd went back for my gun. It was still a minor miracle we were authorised to use it. Seb had instantly taken us to a gun range to see how he could fire with one are mainly out of action. It turned out he was still better than most of us. "Well, we'll probably have to stop and threaten to turn the car around at some point", I said. 

"Mmm, shhh, boring. You're being boring," Sherlock groused. "Do you remember the glowing rabbit, John?" 

"Yes?" I said. How could you forget the case of the glow in the dark phosphorescent rabbit?

"James is here to waste our time with his theorems and proofs, but I'm here for... The mystery." Whatever that mystery was or would continue to be. Of all of the tales Sherlock had been told and cases brought, that was the one he decided to leave his chair for? 

There must be more to it than I could see. "Well, the mystery is a few hours or more away so feel free to solve it in that time." 

"Not everything in this world has an otherly purpose behind it." Sherlock's words made James snort, and I knew they would be off to the races, metaphorically, behind us.

* * *

Most of the trip to Baskerville was as uneventful as a trip with two bored geniuses in the back seat could make it. Sherlock hacked the traffic signals to speed things up, James used a bit of magic to change the car colour and appearance to that of a draconic beast just before we were bearing down on a school crossing filled with small children.   
We stopped for lunch in a pleasant ‘protected zone’ next to a scenic lake, though I was all for just getting to Baskerville and ploughing on, but Seb reminded me of what Jim could be like without enough food in him and I decided discretion was the better part of valour.   
The locals said they made a very nice pate from the freshwater crabs that was a local specialty. I wasn't tempted, though Jim tried some and seemed surprised that it was edible. He certainly ate enough of it to prove the point. I stuck with something simple, counting on a heartier meal when we reached our destination.

It was late afternoon when we reached Baskerville itself, the light already showing itself strange over the moors. The village seemed relatively normal aside from the ancient walls system that seemed to have been kept up. 

Sebastian had mused aloud that the only reason to keep walls like that up was if they were still working, and Sherlock made a note to chip some apart and examine it. 

Rather miraculously we apparently had booked a holiday cottage that was obviously skewed to hunters who liked to risk everything. There were bounties on Other beasts from the crown and there were plenty to go for if you liked a thrill. It seemed to be par for the course for everyone to do a complete search for monitoring devices. Sherlock had me sensing around for any magic in case they had gone that way.   
Whoever "they" might be. And we were once again reduced to two rooms, each with a single bed, though they shared a door between them. And only three of us of the four seemed to notice this fact. 

"Are we intending to sleep tonight?" I asked after I returned from limping rapidly up to the village store for some things Sherlock had forgotten. 

"We'll need to go tomorrow, in the morning. Once the first shift has had their coffee." Sherlock looked like he was going to sack out in one of the beds, while Sebastian was looking... unsure.

"I need to scout a location, and backup would be appreciated," James said. "Also, John, it's time to strut your stuff." 

"Stuff? What are you talking about?" I answered. Seb was the one with stuff as far as I was concerned. 

"Stuff. Your magic tingling feelings." Jim walking toward him wiggling his fingers was generally more concerning than the abstract knowledge that Sherlock was royal blooded. 

"Oh right. Yeah, I can do that." I thought I could at least. It was heartening I was at least of some use on this trip. "If you tell me what we are looking for." 

"Hmn. A lot of it. I want to use you like a human divining rod, and Sebastian will keep us both alive, won't you?"

"No pressure," Sebastian snorted, glancing at me. 

"And what is Sherlock going to be doing?" I asked glancing at him. "Oh, by the way, apparently the pub does good food and they have a sealed tunnel system to get there."

Apparently, you didn't wander above ground at night in Baskerville. 

"Then I will be listening to local legends in the pub, while you three cavort under moonlight." In a way, I wanted to stay with Sherlock, and hear people's stories, the interesting deductions he'd make. 

It was fascinating. "Well if we go at nightfall we shouldn't be too long if we are just looking for a spot." I said. He was up to something too, suspecting more than the usual horror story here. 

Or else he wouldn't have bothered leaving London. "Excellent. Suit up, or kit up, or whatever you say, and let's be ready." 

Sebastian snorted. "If we survive, who's rooming with who?" 

Good question. "And who gets the bed," I said dryly. "Or couch." It didn't look that comfortable.

"We'll draw straws latter," Jim said. "Unless anyone has a preference." 

Sebastian lifted his eyebrows at me. Was that a signal? 

I looked at him a moment and tried to work out whether it was a message. "Well maybe Seb and I being soldiers, we know routines...uh." It sounded feeble even to me. 

"Jim, you owe me a tenner." Sherlock sprawled out on the one bed, and Jim scrunched his face up. 

"Later."

"What?" I grimaced. I should have known. "I'm getting my stuff." 

"Yeah, uh..." Sebastian made vague wordlike noises and then quietly chuckled, slipping into the second room where our gear was. 

"This is what I get for taking bets with you. I thought they'd fuss around longer." 

Like they didn't know I could still hear them. I followed Seb, trying not to flush with embarrassment as I rustled around for my boots, heavier trousers and weaponry. "You don't have to share with me," I offered after a bit of slightly awkward silence.

"No, I was..." Sebastian lifted his eyebrows at me again. "I was trying to ask if you'd mind. I, I know, well, given everything that's happened it's..." Sebastian cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. 

"I don't mind." What was I saying, of course I didn't mind but Seb had seemed to ignore any expression of interest. "Nothing has to happen. I can just be sleeping." 

"Yes." Sebastian touched my arm, high on the back of it, and seemed very relaxed before he moved away to dig through the bags. He stopped, after getting guns, to feed the mice as well. 

I wanted something to happen and at the same time I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to cope. We were all taught mental resilience at school and I'd got decent results. The army taught combat resilience as well, and I'd done that well, but whatever this resistance was it didn't stop nightmares and general freak outs. "Great," I said lamely, and tried to sound casual. 

Sebastian gave a nervous sort of chuckle, and nudged me, still smiling as he wandered back to the other room, armed. "Ready, James?" 

"Been ready for ages," he said. "Sure you're staying behind Sherlock? You might miss all the fun?" 

"No, no. The fun will be tomorrow," Sherlock said, waving us off. "I'll meet you at the pub in a couple of hours." 

We left the building, walking up the road towards the edge of the moors of Baskerville. The streets were already deserted and if the village genuinely had an intact sealed walkway system that made sense. It wasn't a bad idea and to a certain extent it was replicated in certain areas of the city where people had to be able to work at night. You lived in proximity and used the tube to get to work. I'd done it myself in my medical school days to get to the Hospital.

As the light faded the eerie lights of the moors increased, showing to the even the uninitiated the high levels of activity. It was astonishingly beautiful in the shimmering movement of lights and glows that flitted from tree and shrub and then earthed themselves in the ancient walls of the village.

Sebastian exhaled softly, as we walked to either side of Jim. "It's gorgeous." 

"Isn't it just?" Jim said sounding delighted. "Oh, apparently losing track of the path is certain doom."

"Well that's just great," I muttered. My head was feeling a pressure like a thunderstorm over us with little pangs of pain in certain areas. "What are we looking for?" 

"A spot. A spot high in magic. I'll come back tomorrow to test my theories, but some of the math is location specific. Down to the grid coordinate and the best time to find it is when it is active at night. Do you feel the magic, John?" I felt it, I felt it and I could see it, watching something small and slimy looking skitter through an underbrush. 

There were concentrations all around but there was one that stuck out, hummed with a deep, deep bass note of ancientness in the back of my head. "This way..." I headed in a direction, the feeling of the place as bright in my mind as if literally lit up. 

Sebastian shifted, took the safety off of his gun, and was at the ready, which made me feel at least vaguely secure as we headed out. Vaguely. I had heard stories about his fighting abilities, and I had seen the hunting pelts, but neither of us had been tested since our release. Not really.

We could go to pieces. In fact it was more than likely we would, according to the literature. "It feels big and very old. Are you sure you want something that powerful? 

"Oh yes. Yes yes..." James was nearly humming, and I realised that, glancing down, we were definitely moving to a less travelled path in the woods.

Things were getting more twisted and distorted as we moved along. It reminded me far too much of the aperture in Afghanistan, this feeling and the tenor of the humming tone and I felt another spike, this time moving. What the hell, I was some sort of weird detector.

"Seb, something moving to our right, burns of active energy. Feels big and it's..." Yeah it was shadowing us. "...pacing us." 

"I can hear it," Sebastian murmured quietly, and he nudged us a little, closing our ranks tighter. 

"I'm looking for a stationary location, nor large hulking creature," James sing-songed. "Focus."

"I know, but we won't make it there if we get bloody well eaten," I hissed back at him. I carried on walking, my attention split between the moving blob and the the big static one. The hum was getting louder like a rumbling purr. 

It was hard to focus, to focus on the world around us as we neared the static rumbling purr, and I realised that the moving blob had the same frequency type. If frequency was the right word for it. 

Did that mean it was genuinely an interloper from the Beyond? We'd seen other animal sign and movement and I was not picking them up as in sympathetic harmony with each other like this big creature and what I assumed was a rip. 

"Think it is from a rift," I murmured to Seb quietly. 

"Fuck." Sebastian raised the rifle a little, more ready than before, a finger already on the trigger. James continued along with us, oblivious. 

It was a strange sensation, a little like seeing something in a thermal camera. First it was a blob, then as it got closer it was a blob with legs and ...I stopped, frowning. If I concentrated, I could get a shape. "Canine shape, long tail… scratch that multiple tails that flex independently. Sabre tusks and some sort of radiating crest that flares. Size, bigger than normal wolf, not as big as a tiger." 

"Oh." Sebastian's exhalation was soft and oddly pleased. He was turning toward it, walking sideways to somehow try to block James and I from the line of attack if it was going to come. "Hello, buddy. Are you going to watch us or play?" 

The eyes glowed, actually fucking glowed as it became a moving patch in the darkness in visible sight. There was a growl and I tried to think rationally as my brain was urgently phoning in messages about a predator stalking me. I ran through my training. Hunting creatures don't growl. Defending territory creatures do.

"I think we're in its territory," I muttered. I had a sneaking suspicion the epicentre of magical concentration was very near it's den. 

"Beautiful," Sebastian sighed, and I didn't feel that awe and wonder, just anxiety.

"How does it feel?" Jim asked me. 

"Hmm?" I turned warily keeping attention on the creature mentally. "A mental image like a night vision or thermal camera that becomes clearer as it gets closer. Same feeling as the large magic source...other creatures are not giving me that. " 

"Good. Keep leading me to the source, and trust that Sebastian will keep us alive." It was upbeat, oddly encouraging, and I was aware of Sebastian keeping himself between it and us. He was still talking to it, as well, calm words. 

I wasn't sure if he was trying to tame it or...what. The creature was getting more agitated as we got closer and closer to the epicentre. The hum was growing louder as we started a descent into a hollow. Instinctively I stopped.

And James stopped when I stopped, staring at me. "Yes?" 

"It's down there, but..." What could I say? It felt like a monumentally stupid decision to go further. "Look, if I didn't know otherwise, I would be heading as fast as I could in the other direction. " The aperture had felt more controlled. It was like the difference between an awe inspiring building and seeing the raw beauty of a thundering torrent or a forest fire. "It's wild energy." 

“Excellent.” James bounded forward into it, his cell phone and some kind of gps or compass in hand as he charged ahead.

”Hello, buddy. It's okay, we'll be out of here soon.”

I felt at a loss as to whether to follow Jim or stay with Seb. The creature was making snarling noises at James sudden movement and I winced as a flare of something peaked on it's crest. “Seb...” I blurted out not even knowing why.

Sebastian raised the rifle, sighting it. “You're gorgeous, I don't want to shoot you. He's leaving in a second....”  
A cracking bolt of energy launched out of the darkness at Seb and myself, and it was as much a distraction as a threat because in the wake of the bolt it leapt towards us with impossible speed. 

Sebastian took a shot, and I couldn't tell if he hit it or not, but he started to move toward it. “James... Fall back...”

“Keep it off me, I need these readings,” he yelled back. I grimaced seeing flare, then it disappeared in my magic sensitive sense whatever the hell it was. “Shit, it can phase shift.” I was looking around wildly and felt a bloom behind us. “Your six Seb...”

He pivoted and shot, reloading smoothly as he brought the rifle back up to fire again. “Fucking amazing, just...”

“I think its...” Gone again. Pitch black and nothing. “Where the hell has it gone?” There was a pause and a prickle at the back of my neck as something flared down in the hollow. “Bloody hell, it's going after Jim!”  
That made Sebastian launch himself into the hollow, staggering down over moss and loose rocks to tackle Jim and protect him from the creature while somehow shouldering his rifle and firing it with one hand.

Swearing under my breath I ran in after him, unable to take my eyes off of Seb in the eerie moonlight and werelight of the place. He was like every bloody movie hero on screen. Leaping, firing, running… I felt my mouth go dry even as I tried to keep up and cover his back.  
Fuck. The dire wolf thing was phasing all over the place, though it seemed to get a bit dimmer as it kept it up. It had to be expending energy.

”James... Jim, stop arsing about and lets get out of ...whoa!” It leapt from the side of me and I hurled myself out of the way.  
And Sebastian shot again, calm as if he was picking off fairies at a firing range. “Back down the trail.”

There was a yelping roar and Seb had obviously marked it somewhere along the line. Rather unexpectedly it ran past us and its crest lit up with energy again. This time the bolt went away from us towards the focus of the burning sensation in my mind and there was a flare and a wild rip opened as the wolf thing jumped into it... and then it sealed.

"Bugger, it got away." Sebastian was panting hard and he staggered to his feet, gun still at the ready. 

"This is not a bad thing," I answered pushing myself up from the mud. "James? Come on...I don't want to be here if it comes back with reinforcements." It could if it was a pack creature.

"I've got what I need," he said sauntering along without a care in the world. 

It was infuriating, that he was that calm given the circumstances, while I felt blown open within excitement, and dizzied from the flashes of light and the sound of the energy that had been deafening until the portal closed. 

"What a beautiful creature," Sebastian sighed, still catching his breath. 

It was a little like getting high on narcs and then going to a club. "Yeah, well you never know we might see it again tomorrow if James wants to come back here."

"This is a perfect place. I thought we'd have to visit a couple before we found one big enough." 

"Big enough....?" Sebastian slung the gun over his shoulder and shook his good arm out. "Christ, that was amazing. I've never seen anything like that that close. She was intelligent." 

It was true, the canine wolf thing had been strategising. "Wolf packs can do that too,"I said. "Let's go back...uh, if we can find the way." There wasn't a convenient big blob of magic energy to orientate to at the moment. 

"I remember how I got here." Rather than flank us Seb moved to carefully take the lead, looking over his shoulder regularly as if he expected the creature to come back. The way he was smiling, it was definitely a hopeful looking for. 

I was jittery with adrenalin, and as we walked I found myself staring at Seb's ass. Gods, it was a fantastic ass even with Seb's recovery barely half way. What had I been thinking saying we would share? I was going to be hard as nails and I had no idea if I could deal with anything, let alone Seb. 

Someone who I wanted, badly, but I also didn't know if I could handle wanting just then. Or if he could handle it. It was pert, and begging to be cupped, and James gave a pleased hum beside me as we walked along a path that was growing steadily foggier. 

"I can see our footprints leading in, you see." 

"Glad you can. I've got a bloody headache," I grumbled on autopilot. "Damn the fog, we'll have to hurry up. No one got injured did they?" 

"No. Are you both okay?" There were things in the fog. Sometimes the fog itself felt alive with energy and creatures, the lifeblood of some of the elder gods. 

“I'll take a migraine pill when we get back.” There was definitely a buzz to the fog. “The fog is tainted with that energy,” I said quickening my limping pace.

Sebastian slowed, and moved his good arm as if to shepherd them forward. “Food and warm and out of the fog'll be good.”

I had to admit, my nerves felt rattled. Faces seemed to swirl in the fogs, vapour mouths moving soundlessly in silent screams. I needed some good solid food and sugar to stop my shakiness.  
At least James seemed to be in good humour.

“Did you see that thing?” Sebastian murmured again, still leading the way. “It was a little red.”

“It was kinda overlaid to me. It looked red but I wasn't sure if that was just like the heat vision type of thing,” I answered. I was starting to feel the more ordered structured hum of the town wards. 

“No, not just your magic sense. She was red furred and gorgeous.” Sebastian sounded warm and pleased and they finally rejoined the paved path, the glow of the woods receding to the soft lights of the town.

“Why are you sure she was a she?” I asked. Surely in the darkness and with the way it moved he hadn'   
been able to see that closely?

“Dunno.” Sebastian chuckled. “I might be wrong. But she seemed a smart one and defensive of her territory in a way that seemed more intent on scaring us off. Makes me think protecting a den. Maybe with pups.” And the moors would be a great hunting ground -- lots of fog, wild boar, little human interference. It would be a safe place to set up.

It made logical sense. “Did you get what you need Jim...sorry, James?”

”You can call me Jim. It amuses me that Sherlock thinks he is annoying me when I quite like being informal,” he said. “Yes I did. I'll do the calculations overnight and make the preparations.”

Sebastian chuckled, posture relaxing slightly. I was still humming with anxiety. “You've never corrected me.”

“I keep calling you Seb is well,” I said apologetically. “I've never checked.” It seemed wholly ridiculous to worry about the formalities of society with monsters all round us.

“Seb is fine. We're not in uniform.” We didn't have, even if we needed, the structure that had bound and held us up before. He was no longer a colonel and I was no longer a major.

It was probably at least half the reason while we were unsettled. “I can feel the town.”

“And see it,” Jim added, sounding stupidly pleased. “Come along, Sherlock's probably eaten all the grouse.”

Gods of the netherworld, grouse was a bit up market for me. I'd settle for a hearty stew or carvery depending on what the place provided. With the moon risen, the only way into the pub was through the subterranean sealed passages so we had to head back to the cottage to enter it. We seized the opportunity to change our clothes from the muck of the moor - Jim finally agreed when Seb pointed out people wouldn't suspect we'd been out there. I had to admit I was quite impressed by the size of the ancient tunnels, and the fact that now I could tell thee were very ancient warding magic woven into the stone and mortar.

It had to have been done in the first days, when all villages had were instinct and druids. Druids, the first priests, brilliant bastards who'd confronted the Great Elders, and cut deals, who'd understood what would need to be done to keep humans alive. There were other societies who'd been less yielding, less cunning, less understanding of the importance of serving our new lords and masters, and the Druids had made everything work. If the Roman Empire had made an alliance with the Druids of Albion, arguably it would not have fallen.

Sebastian led the way down the tunnel, running a hand back through his hair before he pushed the door to the pub open after series of branching tunnels from other directions back together.  
It opened into a lamp lit room, bustling and busy and almost instantly I relaxed a little. People were here, bustling, eating, drinking and basically being alive and human. Food was written on a specials board and I was abruptly starving.

“Grouse, Sebastian,” Jim bade as he walked over to the table Sherlock had occupied. 

He chuckled. “Stew sounds good enough for me. I think he's just obsessed with tiny bones.”

“I wonder if Sherlock bothered to order anything when he got here?” I asked and glanced at the table where Sherlock had immediately engaged Jim in conversation. No plate, nothing but a glass. “Doesn't look like it. I'll order a grouse for him I guess.”

“Does he, uh...?” Sebastian lifted his eyebrows at me as they moved up toward the desks

“Does he what? Eat?” I shrugged. “Sometimes I think he used to subsist on air, cigarettes and coffee.” I paused a moment to order the boeuf bourguignon and a roast grouse for Sherlock - if not we could take it with us. Sherlock had probably forgotten money and had conned the drink from someone.

Sebastian followed my lead, and ordered the same for himself and grouse for Jim. “Feed, I meant. Sorry. It's rude to ask.”

“Not that I've seen so far,” I admitted. “I can't tell if he's just weird as a human or more because of being a Noble. He eats food if someone else bothers to get it.”

“Tada.” Sebastian shifted down the bar a bit and got a round of whatever was the local fare, chatting and asking why it was called the Ruddy Dog.

I got myself a cider - I felt I deserved some alcohol - and listened in a bit.

”There's always been a Dog of Baskerville,” the bartender was telling him. “Legends called it a Hound back in the day. Could be the same one, may be different. Changes some by all accounts. Some say there's a whole pack of the bastards - now that would be a thought to chill the blood.”

I had a sudden image of Seb coming back with a Ruddy Pup under his arm.

From what I'd seen of Sebastian to date, it was very likely he was fantasizing about similar images himself. “I think it's fantastic to still have wildlife, real wildlife, about,” he grinned, leaning back with his ale.

“Well, the wildlife in these parts had to adapt or die. It's said that the Druids made enclaves on the moors for them to retreat to in safety to survive long enough to adapt. Never seen it proved but there are people who would swear they've seen herds of deer all crammed into one tight place when there are phase shifts and the place is lit up with the Other.” The bartender smiled. “And the hoary old tales of those lost on the moors following animals to safety. Not sure I’d follow the Ruddy Dog though if it exists.”

“Oh, I've seen it,” Sebastian offered. “Animals are smart creatures, and isn't that what we've done here?” He gestured to the comfortable pub around us, and smiled. Then he tipped the barman. “Thanks, mate.”

It was fascinating in its own way. Seb was right, that was almost exactly what we had done as human. It made me wonder if that had been the Druids plan all along...buy us enough time until we adapted.

”We'll bring your food over shortly,” he said and I picked up my glass and went to follow Seb.  
It made me wonder if Jim and Sherlock were adaptations, or if Seb and I were somehow an adaptation. My head still felt over-full, but the warm comfort and easy on my eyes lighting eased that feeling. Sebastian sprawled into a chair across from Sherlock and Jim.  
It might have been my ridiculously lowered tolerance to alcohol but I couldn't seem to stop myself looking Seb over. 

”..and you're still chasing glow in the dark rabbits,” Jim taunted Sherlock as I sat down.  
It opened into a lamplit room, bustling and busy and almost instantly I relaxed a little. People were here, bustling, eating, drinking and basically being alive and human. Food was written on a specials board and I was abruptly starving.

“"I am, and I think you'll be pleased when you work out why," Sherlock declared. "And you three, tromping through the mud. Ridiculous." 

"You probably would have enjoyed the Ruddy Dog," I pointed out. "Might still get to see it if you come with us." 

"Oh, tomorrow? There's no way we can miss it. I want to see what Jim's calculations amount to. We have a bet on them." Jim huffed, and jostled Sherlock's chair. "Shall we take a bet?" 

"How can we bet on a certainty?" Jim replied airily. "My calculations are alway more than theory. That's the point." 

"Shall we take a bet that you are not performing the task for the reason you believe you are?" That was interesting. I'd seen them scuffle and argue a bit but never outright compete. 

"And how do you know what reason I believe I am doing this for?" Jim retorted.  
I had no idea what they were talking to. Jim was looking at magical concentrations for some reason - that could be used to do anything. 

"Transportation." He gave Jim a significant look. "And yet that is not all." 

"Oh really?" Jim cocked his head quizzically. "What else could there be?" He sounded falsely sincere and I frowned. I wanted to tell them both to stop dancing around and just say what they meant.   
Except we were in public, and maybe that was why. Sherlock waved him off, dismissive. "Later. Get yourself a drink or five and we'll see who's right tomorrow." 

"Fortunately I have a bodyguard for that very purpose," Jim said gesturing to Seb. "My drink dear sir."  
I just shook my head in faint disbelief. 

Seb snorted, and got to his feet to wander back to the bar. "John, do you want another one?" 

"Might as well rack them up," I agreed. The cider I had was pretty good and I was feeling a bit blurry and mellow already. 

I might be able to sleep, or at least, I hoped I could. Seb came back with four ciders, and a relaxed posture as he juggled them into the table, clutched against his chest. "Sorry, John can you grab yours?" 

I reach over, my coordination a little sloppy from drink, my fingertips brushing perilously close to his nipples and just like that I was fixated on a different type of hunger, even as our dinner was brought to us.

I'm sure the food was delicious as I ate it, but I kept remembering that jolt of accidental contact.   
We'd been mashed together like bits of carrot when the creature had been on us, but aware and safe and alert, my hand just touching against him through fabric, I could feel my balls tighten and my dick go hard. It was amazing, to just feel want, and to haphazardly participate in casual conversation. 

Truth was, I hadn't been sure that I would ever feel that again. The ordeals we had gone through had a tendency to burn out everything emotional. I was ridiculously pleased and probably they thought my inane smile was to do with the admittedly rather superior beef in red wine stew and not to do with the heat in my stomach. It felt good, and the anxiety of the woods and the fog faded back as if it had been a hallucination while Sherlock started to point out the people in the pub. 

"Do you know, virtually every member of this pub has seen the Ruddy Dog, " Sherlock informed us. "And yet apparently it is still legendary. Jane over there, she had her chicken eaten by it, and Robert swore that it tried to tear down his door in the cold winter a few years ago. It's all very dramatic." 

"That's interesting," Sebastian mused, frowning a little. His frown made me wonder what he was thinking and engage in the conversation more. 

"So if it causes all these problems..." I said "could they not have hunted it down?"   
We had found it first time out, winged it -- well Seb had. 

"That's the thing... no one has been killed by it. People have been savaged by it, but..." The creature is real enough otherwise it would not able to sense through magic, but it doesn't go near the village. 

"Well, it did phase, and Seb is a crack shot and he only just clipped it," I pointed out in a low voice. It did seem a bit weird though.   
“It's territory and pups are near the hollow. I suspect the facility is too. Unless it was really hungry it wouldn't go to the village...I suspect they feed it” 

"I don't think it's actually very violent. It paced us for the longest part of the path." Sebastian was finishing off his cider. That was a good point. It wasn't until they had reached the hollow the Dog had attacked and even then, the first bolt of energy most likely had been a warning shot.

"Seb has a point. We both thought it was territorial not randomly attacking. So...could there be something else? It's a big moor." 

"And that is what we'll be doing in the morning, John." Sherlock gave me a pointed look. 

Part of me was wondering if Sherlock was a bit jealous I had gone off and had a dramatic experience without him. I shrugged. "Okay, it'll be easier in daylight.” 

"And we'll be uhm. Boring in town." Gathering Intel, I assumed, but from Sebastian's smile and Jim's sly look it was possible that he was going to forge out into the woods as well. 

"I doubt that," I said and Jim nodded from where his food had practically disappeared.

"Boring? There's no boring around here," Jim said with a grin. "I'll have some things to set up once I have done calculations.” 

"And I'll... assist?" Sebastian seemed mildly amused. 

"Someone has to watch my back," Jim replied. "Now it's going to be a time consuming process so I expect you can do some hunting or whatever in the meantime..."

I zoned out then, while Jim chatted on. It didn't take too long to eat dinner while arguing went on between the two of them with the occasional interjection by myself or Seb. We settled our bill with bits of coin and a wave of Jim's card, and meandered back down the hallway, where I could feel my nerves crawling back up my throat. 

I had volunteered to sleep in the bed with Seb. I was slightly mellowed out, so was Seb with the local alcohol giving us a buzz. All I could think of was what the hell was I going to do. I appeared to have lost control over my reactions. 

Sebastian exchanged a few words with Jim about what time to get up, and what he might like for breakfast, and then sat on the edge of the bed to take his boots off. I stood there like an idiot for a bit before I started undressing for bed. I kept having to have words with myself that I'd been a soldier, we saw each other naked before and so on. It was pretty hard. 

I was pretty hard, and Sebastian was seemingly at ease as he moved to close the door between our room and Jim and Sherlock's. There was enough soundproofing that I could hear the lilt of Jim's voice, but not the words. "That was a good cider they had." 

"Yeah, I haven't drunk much since we got back. Got a buzz pretty quickly. You?" Maybe I should go to bed in a T-shirt or something as well as my boxers. 

Sebastian peeled his t-shirt up over his head with a bit of a struggle, and turned to look at me. "Just mellow." 

Gods, there I went again, completely and utterly fixated on his chest where I had accidentally touched him. "Er...that's good."

He looked thoughtful, though I didn't know what was ticking in his mind until he leaned over a little. "Why don't you sit down?" 

I sat down, unaccountably nervous. It was ridiculous considering what we had been through together. We'd spent the time naked most of the ordeal. "Sorry, I'm just a bit..uh.." 

"I don't want to seem forward, John, but..." He leaned forward a little, reaching his good hand out to touch the edge of my jaw. 

It was again like some sort of charge touching my skin and that had to be a signal right? He had to want something. I hope I was right because I think I made some sort of sound and turned towards him needing to taste his lips, his skin, something. He leaned over and into the motion, and kissed me. Just a press of mouth against my own, warm and relaxed, his hand sliding to hold my shoulder. That felt good. It felt human for a start and I'd almost forgotten how that could be, the burning warmth of lip to lip, the addictive need for more. Without thinking I reached around him to caress over skin and scar, losing myself in sensation. 

He shifted us until we were laying on the bed and I was on top of him, and it was easy to keep kissing, feeling my heartbeat surge. The raised area of his scars tingled under my touch and I was careful with that at least, just moulding myself to his taller frame, my interest very evident from my erection. I very rarely had such a visceral reaction to someone. 

Sebastian made a quiet noise, and pulled back a little. "Is this alright for you?" His hand was idled down to the hem of my trousers. 

"Gods, yes..." I mumbled against his skin. "I have been fixated on touching you all evening." You would have thought I'd had the world's longest dry spell the way I was acting. 

"We can do anything you want." He moved his hand up, curling against the back of my head and his weaker hand moved to the waistband. "I'd hoped..." 

"What do you hope?" I asked shifting to allow access to that hand, my own till moving. 

"That you were interested." He huffed a sigh, and almost seemed to be shivering as he leaned in to kiss at the side of my neck, holding me close in a clutch. 

It was easy to tangle my own fingers in his short hair, feel his reaction to my fingers on the back of his neck. "I'm interested. Apparently I want all of you." 

He laughed, a soft unsteady noise as he squirmed beneath me and I felt myself relaxing. "Trousers off?" 

"Fuck yeah," I agreed and tried tugging at my own one handed, not wanting to let him go. I didn't care who did what because the heat of skin to skin was blissful. 

Human skin against mine was a warm relief, and he helped, holding onto me with his bad arm while he tried to get out of his own trousers and pants. He looked and felt amazing and as soon as we were naked I renewed my mission to taste him, kiss and touch him everywhere feeling his own reaction as I did so. 

He was trembling, shivering, and clutching me close, but kissing me back just as fiercely as I kissed him, holding me atop him. I lost track of time a little, the pair of us moving like that. I became aware that I wanted more though and I was too addled by pleasure to string together a coherent argument. Instead I attempt to twist a little to line my ass up with him. It was a bold move but the ache was building. 

It was a little awkward, but both of us laying on our side facing each other was easier for aching limbs and stiff muscles. I didn't expect deeply athletic sex just then, but contact, and Sebastian knew how to move his hips trying to slide his dick between my ass cheeks between my thighs.   
I was moving in time with him seeking a sweet friction of my own. To be honest, I was intent on the closeness and the sensations and there was no grand plan just feeling. If I'd been planning, I would have been lubed up and ready because that was what I wanted, but right now frottage was feeling pretty damn good.

It felt good to feel, and I wasn't sure I wanted to pull away to find lube, but Sebastian was moving slowly, still smoothing a hand against my hip. What the hell, I decided just to go with it. No point running before I could walk and I was too absorbed in feeling. Feeling genuine pleasure and desire, not the empty euphoria pumped into the psychic field by a hungry Royal.  
My arms were wrapped around him as we moved against each other, both seeking for angles of friction. 

"Mmm, please, please..." Seb sighed and clutched at me, still shivering and I wasn't sure if it was nerves or excitement until I saw his face and eyes, warm with excitement. 

It was like he thrived on feeling the heat and I unconsciously started trying to spread that warm touch all over his shivering skin. I kissed him again and murmured, "What do you want?" Although I'm not sure how coherently that was asked as I was mouthing skin and lips at the time. 

"Just to feel you, just..." He shifted his hips, and the motion rubbed beneath my balls in a way that sent pulls up my spine. 

"Oh gods.." I groaned. "Forgot the fucking lube otherwise I'd have you in me by now...that, there..." I thrust back needing the movement. 

"Think Sherlock or Jim have any?" Sebastian half whispered, while I'd rather not get up and look. 

"Dunno," and I really didn't, and the thinking was hard with all these sensation. "Lotion?" Not ideal but I was feeling a surge of arousal at his interest. 

Just to see, just to see how far we would get. Sebastian shifted arching backwards at an improbable angle to snag his shaving kit. 

It was crazy, and I should know better but lotion would do. We had oilbased one for scarring and it would do the job. I was surprised when Sebastian produced a dark glass bottle that was stoppered, and on opening smelled something like coconut oil. "This should work?" It was half a suggestion and half a question as he leaned back close to me, our legs still entangled. 

"Gods yeah," I replied, aware I sounded like I was being presented with the elixir of life.   
Sebastian grinned, and nudged back in close to me, and pressing skin against skin again while 

Seb was large enough to make me want to be stretched. The oil tingled on my skin as he smoothed his hand over skin seeking towards my ass. The feeling of fingers sliding slick in and out of my ass, seeking my prostate with care and slow motions, was better than frottage. He kissed my neck and stayed so close that I felt we were melting together. 

I went boneless and gasping with every motion. The sheer heat between us dispersed the lingering nightmares. That and the fact the oil was mildly narced up. 

I didn't mind that just then, not after the evening, though I wondered if Sebastian knew it was narced up or not. Probably a gift from his sister, there'd been a few things like that. It felt good to lay there and feel everything, even the fingers pulling back out of me. 

I made a protesting noise at the emptiness hoping it was a prelude to being filled with more. I wanted Seb and I was aware that him wanting me was a massive boost to me. 

"Are you ready?" His still slick fingers stroked my dick, petting, touching restlessly.

"Fuck yeah," I said shifting. "Where do you want me?" My leg wasn't limber enough to hook up over his shoulders just yet though with that thought that became one of my top five ambitions.   
I wanted to do it again, after we'd both had more time to heal, and Sebastian grinned a he leaned over me. 

"I don't want to hurt your leg. On your side, with me behind you?" He was taller than me, and that would mean a lot of easy touching. 

"Yeah...yeah that sounds." Perfect. Perfect long slow fuck and I had to thank the alcohol for dulling the hair trigger of arousal otherwise it would have all been over in a couple of minutes. I rolled onto my good leg and relaxed. I grinned a little as I looked over my shoulder. "Make yourself at home." 

He leaned in, kissing my shoulder gently as he spooned up behind me. It felt good, body heat pressed against my back, fingers exploring again. 

My eyes were half lidding again, my attention on how I was being touched. The only thing I could do was to move slowly against him. 

It felt good, his dick wedging slowly up between my asscheeks, his hand reaching between my legs to play with my balls. Sebastian clearly knew his way around a man.   
If I had been more conscious of anything but the feel of his hand and how close he was getting to pushing into my ass I would have felt a bit guilty about practically demanding he fuck me. My manners had disappeared along with any semblance of caring what anyone one thought. 

"Yeah, please Seb..." I mumbled. I liked the arms reaching around me as well.   
I briefly felt bad that his bad arm was beneath me, but the warm, the clutching comfort was too good to stop. He pushed in slowly, so carefully. "Oh, oh Chaat..." 

It felt good...better than good, it felt right. There was no other way to describe it. I had been worried that my mind would stick on the comparisons of our ordeal but it felt completely different. Rather than tensing up as I feared, I felt the last of my anxiety disappear and I relaxed into what he was doing. I groaned deep in my throat, willing him to push in harder.   
He had a slow, rolling sort of thrust, lazy and relaxed as he played with my balls, pressed close against my back in a way that kept him from pulling out too far. 

It was incredible, endless in the cycle of thrusts, the way we flexed and moved together and heat pooling between us. That was all I was aware of, perfectly happy to follow the languid sensual pace Seb had set. It was strange how swiftly I relaxed with him, or maybe the oil was more narced up than I thought. It was like the best wet dream fantasy come true. 

Just a lazy boneless roil of fucking, until I didn't think I could take it anymore, and Sebastian's hand on my dick started to go unsteady. 

Sensing a shift, I figure I could hold a face down position on my leg if it would get me the last frantic push that would get me off, and take the pressure off of Seb’s arm if he wanted to kneel up to thrust. "Seb...move..." I managed between gasping breaths, trying to indicate what I was thinking with my movement. 

"Oh thank god." Sebastian gave a half burst of laughter and moved when I did, thrusting hard, firmly, finally giving me the jolt of sensation that I needed. 

It didn't take long for me to peak up to my own climax, long awaited and like fireworks going off behind my eyes. The flush of endorphins from my climax allowed me to hold position as Seb thrusted deep and hard with increasing speed to his own release.  
It was quite simply, fucking amazing. 

I held on just long enough to feel him go stiff, making a few last thrusts before he eased back, pulling me to lay on the bed with him.   
My leg was grateful for the rest and I deliberately moved in as close as possible. "Well, that was...okay," I said."Think we might need to practice it a lot though. You know, to make sure we are getting it right." 

He nuzzled a kiss against my neck, my jaw, and was smiling. "Lots of practice as PT?" 

"Lot's of practice as PT," I agreed and I probably had the biggest ridiculous grin on my face, but I didn't care. 

It felt stupidly good to burrow beneath the covers with Sebastian, holding each other, feeling wildly awake and exhausted at the same time. I had no idea what Jim and Sherlock had planned, but I did know that whatever it was, this was the highlight of our trip.

* * *

It wasn't a thought I ever shared with John, or my sister, but often there seemed to be little explanation other than that. That I was not actually staying at a quaint holiday cottage, but wrapped tight somewhere in a warm straitjacket rather than human arms, drooling into my own shoulder. It was entirely possible that I was feeding mice, for it was rumoured that the asylum's now, even now in our modern age, had a pestilence issue. It was hard to not hold experiences in the moment up and examine them to see if they would shatter like fragile crystal. 

Things just did not turn this idyllic overnight as had happened to me. John had not only been interested but enthusiastically forward, even if we'd had a slightly awkward conversation when we both got up where he apologised for being pushy, and not asking what I preferred.   
What I preferred was anything, and contact, actually feeling alive and wildly so had been so good. To go with it, to react and feel and move and not feel more than a few inklings of overwhelming fear had been such a relief.   
It had helped, I decided at that point at least to not being the one penetrated, though before my capture I had indulged in a mixture of anything goes. Still, it was a revelation. I had half feared I was completely ruined.   
And I was not. I still had fear, but watching John's face, feeling him, had tamped it all down, and it had felt so good. I'd been ridiculously scared that I was going to crawl into bed with him and just shake like a puppy.

Which would've been humiliating. 

It became obvious from what he had said that John had feared the same. That was comforting at least. It must have been like a neon sign over both our heads when we went to breakfast. We were both smiling, staying close to each other even before we were dragged off on our different activities. 

It felt good -- to not just have companionship with John, but something else. Another kind of connection between us. 

Jim was having nothing of it, though. 

He apparently had been doing calculations all night from the amount of papers littered over all the surfaces. John was dragged out giving me plaintive looks as he went with Sherlock on a mission to find luminous rabbits. I was left initially to look around the village and the periphery on my own but Jim eventually surfaced. 

It was almost a shame, because the village was quaint and warm and full of things for me to explore. It was a very human village, and the magic in the area had been tamed. There were still bookshops and trinkets and things. Normal things that I hadn't been able to indulge in, in a long time. I would have to try and get something for Becca and the kids.

Before I knew it, we were off following our own trail from the night before which he was relying on me to find. Our boot prints were visible enough - I was more interested in the animal prints and to see if I could find out if I had wounded the Ruddy Dog. 

I wanted her, and it wasn't a secret to Jim or John. I wanted to find her alive or dead, but I had to find her. After a leisurely morning, it was even better to follow a trail that could take me somewhere I wanted to go. 

We reached the hollow and Jim started putting items out, and measuring distances and I gave the area a thorough looking over. I saw the footprints, proving she was corporeal. I could see in my mind the whipping three tail and the snaps it had made on twigs at a certain height, I looked for trails as the afternoon wore on. 

We needed to find our way back there before the light turned to twilight, when it started to get hard to adjust to the change of light. Jim was getting anxious, in a way that I personally found hilarious and threatening. 

"This is ridiculous," he said pacing around his careful markings. "Have you the hamsters?" 

"Mice," I corrected, bringing the cage forward before kneeling down to pull each gently harnessed creature out to attach them to their long thin leashes. I enjoyed the soft fur against my fingers, and they were inquisitive little blighters. 

"I can't wait any longer," he said. "We'll do the test run. I want that sorted before the phase potential builds up to rapidly. Stand clear of my zone but have the mice ready." 

I gathered them into my arms, leashes looped around my palm. It was a little like juggling, because they were sweet and sniffing for treats in excitement. 

Jim started doing chanting and all that esoteric stuff that I recognised but didn't have a clue what he was doing. Next thing you know there was a crackling electric feeling in the air and something was definitely happening. 

I didn't know what was happening, but it was real, and I stepped backwards and held tight to the mice -- trying to take it in. Was it a portal? 

James was looking maniacally gleeful. "There it goes! " he shouted and there was a literal thunder clap and he hastily drove a heavily etched runic athame into the ground and the tendrils of energy latched onto it like an anchor....and there was a small, tiny rip in the air, just about the size of a mouse. 

Edged up close to it, and held onto one mouse, looking to Jim for confirmation. "Now?" 

"Wait, wait...this is the tricky bit. " He looked to be concentrating hard and then some of the energy inverted in through the hole like a key in a lock. "Yes! we're still alive… that's promising! Now send them through. Keep hold of the leash." 

I wrapped the leashes around my hand once again, and carefully slipped each one through the smallish hole, hoping I could reel them back in. 

I could feel something from the rip, that otherworldly energy but like usual it wasn't debilitating for me. The mice went through and I was holding the leashes hoping like hell no one was watching. Jim had a stop watch out and said suddenly. "Reel one of them back in." 

I kept a tight hold on both leashes and started to gently pull so as not to startle the curious little creature as I reeled it back in. It was shivering and a bit frantic but otherwise alive.

"Excellent!" Jim picked it up examining it closely. It bit him on the finger but he barely seemed to notice. "Looking promising."

"What is?" Sherlock's voice rang out behind us and I glanced around to see him and John heading towards us with a stampede of luminous rabbits running ahead of them. It was almost as surreal as what I was doing. 

"Can I pull the other one in?" I could feel it tugging at the leash and I wanted to: the first one felt a bit cold.

"Yes, yes...pull it in." Jim said. "I did it, Sherlock, a directed portal, stabilised and anchored."

"Yes well, we discovered a secret government lab where I think they've been attempting to do the same thing with things like computers rather than your scribblings," Sherlock replied.

"We probably ought to get out of here..." John added looking behind them. " It is literally concealed just over that rise there." 

I glanced behind me as I reeled the other mouse in, and wondered about the rabbits as well, but they were long gone. "John, can you hold the cage for me?" It seemed crueller to set them free in the woods like that. 

"Sure," he said. He looked a little rattled as well, as I reeled in the other. It was shivering and moving sluggishly but still alive.

"I suggest James, we stop congratulating yourself and leave rapidly," Sherlock said. "What I probably should have mentioned is that we broke into the top-secret base and it’s entirely possible they are looking for us." 

"Hmn, hmm, and whose problem is that?" James straightened, and I didn't want to watch them fight as I carefully reached for the mice and prepared to lead them back to the cottages and the village. 

"Uh-oh..." I heard John say beside me. A low-lying fog and mist were suddenly boiling out of the ground somehow.

"Seriously, we have to have a phase inversion NOW?" James said his voice sounding high with sudden tension. "Shit, the anchor... I..."

There was a sudden claw poking and clawing at the hole from the other side. 

I shoved the cage of mice at John, and crouched low to pick up my rifle from where it was laying at my feet, taking aim without hesitation.

"Pull the anchor!" Sherlock yelled at Jim lunging for the anchor and Jim was yelling back "No, no you can't! You can't just pull it out you idiot!" but he was too late. Sherlock had it and instead of fading out when he uprooted the athame the energy started drawing from the air and the portal started to grow.

And the mist swept through blinding all of us. 

I went down on one knee to steady myself, and then lifted my head, eyes open to look through the thick, glowing white mist. 

And I saw the Ruddy Dog. 

The light dropped around us suddenly, and the Ruddy Dog growled, a thunderous deep rumble, energy glowing at her crest. She flickered and I knew instinctively she was going flank John and I.   
The problem with shooting was that I didn't know where Sherlock and Jim were, because fog like that made people make stupid movements. "John!" 

"Crap!" John stumbled backwards into me as a shaped growled right by us on our right. "Sensing, right, I can sense...Down Seb! 

I dove down, crouching and focused on orienting to the sound, the sense of movement. "C'mon you beautiful bastard..." 

It slammed into my side and it was like being plunged into a freezer with ravening beast. "Seb!" John was there as well and the mist thinned out.

And we definitely were not in the Hollow any more. 

Which meant there was only one other place we could be. We were in the realm of the Others.

"Oh fuck." I straightened up, feeling the cold whip around me, leaving my lungs aching as I stood and watched. The world was deep and loamy, like the hollows of a wood but the way the earth curved around us was unreal, and I stepped toward the creature. The sky was blue above us and green and grey. 

The Ruddy dog had stayed in the mist - John was there with his vorpal blade, dripping some ichor, but he seemed to be having difficulties, pressing the heel of his hand to his head.

And it felt like the temperature was plummeting moment by moment. 

"C'mon, baby. You want to let us go, go home, huh?" The air didn't carry my voice right and I took a step backwards, gun still held, looking for a portal to go back through with John. The cold was starting to feel refreshing and the ruddy dog was looking confused. 

"Oh gods..." John staggered. "So many of them. Arguing, I can hear them arguing. It's like thunder in my head."

The Dog was not moving. I wasn't even sure where the portal was. 

"Okay." We hadn't gone far but it wasn't behind us. I edged backwards, gun still at the ready. 

"John, grab my belt. Grab my belt. Let's get on the move." I could see my breath turn to glowing fog. 

He grabbed me and sounded suddenly more lucid. "I can feel something familiar over to the left. A familiar energy," he murmured at me. 

"Then we go left." I kept the gun raised and ready, breathing slowly, keeping the Ruddy Dog, whatever it was, in view, and moved either care to the left. The grass beneath our feet seemed to slither and I didn't look down. 

We were in the Other place. Not merely the warped reflection that world made of our own, but there and by all known lore, it was inimical to life to stay there more than a few minutes, and even more detrimental to sanity. But in my experience, it was uncomfortable, but bearable. We sidled carefully over to where John had pointed. Only a few steps, a mere few and suddenly we were in stark brilliant sunshine and a feel to the air I knew all too well. 

I sucked it in gratefully and was delighted to see that my air did not come out as wisps of fog... we were on the side of a low sloping hill, without food or water, and certainly not dressed for the location. But we were armed, and I had a cell phone in my pocket that I desperately need to probably wouldn't work. 

"We should've had leashes on." 

John was looking horrified. "Holy fuck, we need to get out of here," he said fervently. “This is where I was held in Afghanistan...we really need to get out of here. Even the Dog is a better bet than here." 

"Do you feel anything?" I felt nothing, but I could stay calm while John felt and maybe that was something useful. "Also, I wouldn't worry about that, they've all been killed now." 

He relaxed a little and grimaced. "I feel the Dog...and the direction it is travelling. The portal is still there...we can go back. It's like a weird triangulation." 

"it's not our math." I took one last breath, feeling the soothing air of it, and jerked my head in the direction John indicated. "Back we go then?" 

"Hold on the Dog is...yes, I think it has gone through. I can feel the other familiar energy now," John said. "Just hold on to me, I can't think properly without it, everything is too loud. Direction is diagonal right." 

"Okay." I moved to grasp at his hand with my bad hand, and kept the gun at the ready on my other side. And then I took a step, leading the way. The leashes made so much more sense now. 

Obviously, the mice could not be guaranteed to move much, but here we were the unexpected human testing of the concept.

Back into the freezing atmosphere of the Other. Everything cold, drifting mist and there, a glimmering light.

"That's it...through there." 

The light was oddly brilliant, and I tried to not wallow in awe and wonder and just stand there when John needed me to move, but it was breathlessly stunning. There aren't words for how amazing it was, the way the glimmering light seemed round, almost, scintillating. 

I led the way back through the portal.   
Once again into the darkness, the mist patchy and the light faded, and what sounded like an all-out battle. 

"Left!" Jim shouted and threw himself down in the mud.

"I can see that you idiot, how do we shut this down!" 

"What are you shutting down?" I yelled, brazenly still standing up but it felt good to be on terra firma in Albion again! 

"Oh, good you're back." James said, dropping with a curse again. The Ruddy Dog orientated on my voice and came right at me again. 

I wanted to take the shot and I didn't want to take the shot at the same time. Instead I shoved John down and dove out of the way in the opposite direction. "C'mon pretty, let's not make today your last day..." 

She looked confused trying to work out how to go for both of us at the same time, when I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching and a piercing nothing that had the Ruddy Dog off howling, vanishing herself somewhere.

"Friends of yours Sherlock?" Jim said a little breathlessly as I tried to work out what had happened. 

"Friends might be the wrong word."

"We were, Jim, we were in Afghanistan. We crossed over..." I gestured toward where we'd stepped through as I tried to help John up but I didn’t get any further.

"Put your hands where we can see them, drop all weapons!" Snapped out an order from where the vehicle had stopped.

"Don't shoot!" Jim called back. "I need to shut this down." 

"Or the dogs from the other side will eat us all," I offered, holding my hands up as high as I could and stepping forward. I hoped I was physically intimidating enough walking toward them in surrender that they'd accidentally give Jim time. 

Someone in a white coat ran forward. "What...but that's impossible. Is that a stable self-generating portal? What's it running off of?"

"Ambient magic and otherworld energies," Jim replied. "Sherlock, nullify the key rune. It should fold up. Or blow up, one or the other." 

"Details are more important than you act like they are," Sherlock groused, and I stayed where I was, facing down headlights and soldiers. 

"You've done a rune array? But… they've never been able to stabilize the equations!" the scientist said. "Stop waving the weapons around, I want to see it."

"Professor, we were given instructions to take them into custody," a soldier replied. "We received orders." 

"Where did the orders come from?" I still had a commanding tone to my voice and I wasn't afraid to use it.

They were military, or ex-military because the squaddies responded and seemed about to respond when the Major in charge stepped forward. "Security clearance needed sir," he said briskly. "Level 5."

Sherlock actually laughed. "Level 5? That's just...precious."

"Sounds like we're above your clearance Major."   
John sounded delighted to say that, and I was glad he was in the game and free of the psychic murk of the other side. 

"Mycroft sent us," I agreed, and tried to not think of the way he seemed to be ice inside out.   
That seemed to mildly surprise the man and he covered it well. "Then you will have no problem giving me a level 5 security code sir."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Really? Fine. Black Beard. Now can we get out of here? At moon rise that rip is going to open again and I suspect the Ruddy Dog is going to be irritated with us." 

"I'd really rather not shoot her. She's benign, and you don't know what might move in in her place." I started to lower my hands. 

The scientist with them nodded. "She is one of our finest," he said. "An excellent guard Dog, highly intelligent."

Of course, it all seemed so obvious now he'd said it. The Ruddy Dog was not wild at all. 

"She's gorgeous." I turned a little to look over my shoulder. It explained, too, how the myth had reached back generations. It was hard to not grin at the other three. "So, done and dusted for the evening? Has anyone seen our mice?" 

"I need to speak to you all, we need a debrief, "the scientist said. "Andrews, can we take them in?"

"The code word checks out," the Major said. "Please get in the vehicles. All of you...and your mice." 

It was a badly battered cage, but the little bastards were smart enough to stay inside the cage. I picked it up, and my gun, keeping close to John. Debrief wasn't really something I felt like doing just then. 

John seemed to be struggling a bit with his leg and glancing at Sherlock as if he held some sort of answer. "Are they on our side?" he asked finally.

"Oh, I think we'll find one of Mycroft’s icy fingers in this particular pie," he said. "It has all his hallmarks. Melodrama and ridiculousness. Luminous rabbits, I mean really." 

"Makes me wonder if the Ruddy dog takes luminous shits," I hummed, glancing at John and Jim, who just seemed giddy with his success. "You knew where you were sending us." 

"Not entirely intentionally sending you," Jim said. "I was sending mice. Until someone interfered."

"It seemed sensible at the time. How was I to know you idiotically put a self-feedback rune on the anchor in case detachment from the ground. 

"A what?" I let myself play the daft moron between the two of the geniuses because it would help John and I work out what was going on. 

"Fascinating, " the Professor said as we were sent up into the back of the transport. "I would like a long conversation with you Mr...?"

"Moriarty, James Moriarty," he said airily.

John sat next to me, and I noticed he was shaking a little as if he was cold even as the vehicle started on its way, presumably to the secret base Sherlock and John had infiltrated at the start of the day. 

I settled the mice on my lap, and leaned my leg against John's. "Hey." Words failed me at the worst times. 

"Hey," John replied glancing at me. "Fun day huh?" He was trying a little too hard. I forget how different we were. John was not immune to that Other place, but he remained conscious and aware during it. He saw and sensed it. 

I saw it and sensed nothing. I saw it and mostly didn't like it but that was more like. a personal preference. "Bit crazy. What was with the rabbits?" 

"Experimental tagging to potentially track through other energies or something," he said. He shivered. "I'm bloody cold...how come you aren’t freezing too?" 

"Can't feel it." I reached out to rub at his shoulder, a casual gesture. He didn't feel cold to my touch, but it was hard to tell if it was lingering something. "I'm numb to most of it, like I said." 

"Kinda freaked a bit when I realised where we were," he said. I realised he was breathing in deliberate calming inhalation, exhalation. "I did not want to go back there again. " 

"Weren't you more bothered knowing that we were..." I gestured with my free hand, "Chaat knows where in between?" 

"This time nothing was reaching for us. I could feel things but distantly," John replied. "The cold was intense though. It’s got into my bones."  
The jeep bounced a little, and they steadied themselves. I noted we weren't being shown the route. 

That was fine, we would still work out how to get home. "I think the cold was from another worldly source." Mostly, I wanted to go home, and crawl into bed, hotel or back in Baker Street, with John, and warm him up properly. 

It looked like on the other hand that we would be spending time in a secure facility. The jeep came to a halt and we were ordered out brusquely. The Major had that look I recognised of 'Oh shit, this is above my paygrade, " but was hiding it pretty well. He was right, James and Sherlock were above any paygrade. 

They were a creature unto themselves, and occasionally I wondered if they were somehow symbiotic and separated prior to birth. I kept a hold of the mice, and didn't let John get too far from me. "if it's possible, we'd like to get back before the pub stops serving. I’m starving." 

"Don't hold your breath sir," he said and I nearly smiled at still being addressed as if I was the Colonel. Soldiers were funny that way, but it startled me to be treated the same way I treated someone when I came across a veteran. "This way, you need to be debriefed."

"Oh gods, we'll be here all night," John murmured looking at out two resident geniuses. 

"Particularly if I have to explain complicated mathematical principles to them." Jim was all excited glee still, and I added,

"And the importance of leashing your mice." 

John snorted next to me. "Of course."

The one referred to as professor was beside himself with curiosity. "I really must talk to Mr Moriarty and Mr Holmes as a matter of urgency," he declared. "You can debrief the others, but I need to know how he stabilised the energy with such a simple runic array." 

"If we're going to stand on ceremony, Professor Moriarty, Research Royal Mathematician of Queen's College will do fine," he uttered with only a bored trace of venom in his words. 

"Professor Moriarty? Who wrote Application of Esoteric Einsteinian Systems? Professor Willard Brown at your service sir," he said obviously impressed. "Your work is inspired." 

"And my use of a rune was a lazy cheat. Come, let's discuss." Now firmly in control of the conversation, Jim and Sherlock seemed to lead the way to their own interrogation room, to the major's relief. 

"I apologise in advance for them, " John said still shivering slightly. "Any chance we can have a hot drink while you question us? I can't seem to get warm." 

"We were on the other side." It was as good an explanation as I could give just then. 

The major seemed startled, but waved us to another room. "The captain will fetch your tea." 

"Thank you, " John said going in and sitting down with an audible sigh of relief, kneading at his leg a little. 

I followed and set the mouse cage on the table as I settled in beside John. "Well, still better than the hospital." 

"True enough," John replied.

"Can you state your name for the record?" Major Andrews said politely enough obviously turning on a recording device. 

I glanced over at John and nodded. "Colonel Sebastian Moran, retired." 

"Captain John Watson, Army Doctor, retired," John said. "But you probably already know that."

"It's a good way to see if people are going to lie," the Major said. "Colonel, if you explain to me how you managed to be on Ministry of Defence land?" 

"Well, we walked from the pub into the woods. It's not like you had a fence or signs up. I thought it was just abandoned woods," I offered honestly. "And a gorgeous creature to chase." 

"So, you were hunting the Ruddy Dog?" the major queried. "You realise most people avoid the area rather than seek it out?"

"Yeah, you don't know him too well," John chipped in. 

"I was. She was gorgeous, so I didn't really want to shoot her. I just wanted to watch." Maybe get a photo. She really was a beautiful beast, so intelligent. "And Jim wanted to do something with math and mice. Didn't seem out of the ordinary." 

The Major looked at him. "Not out of the ordinary? Then why was Dr Watson here and Mr Holmes breaking into this facility? And then a stabilised portal produce which you entered and exited again? Care to tell me where that led?" 

"The ruddy dog's den on their side. And the mountains of Afghanistan. As for the rabbits... I don't know, John can explain that. I just saw them come barrelling at us." 

"Sherlock set them free as a distraction. It all started with one brought to us in London as a mystery. A pet. That lead Sherlock here, to your stocks of luminous rabbits that you use to encourage the impression of a highly charged dangerous phasic area and feed to the Ruddy Dog to give her the unearthly glow and so on," John said. "I'd claim credit but Sherlock figured it out in about 3 seconds." 

"Oh." The major looked deflated, and I offered forward the cage of mice. 

"Can we make these two glow?" 

John snorted beside me, even as we were interrupted by a sergeant bringing in cups of tea. John practically lunged for it.

"The incursion into the base aside, you say you went through the rift and came out in Afghanistan?" He was trying to sound casual, but we were all military in the room. We knew what it meant. 

"Right on top of their bloody sacrifice mountain." I lifted my head, and reached for my tea. "We did have to walk through the other side to get there, which is a bit harrowing. I'm immune and John is to a point. Not sure you'd come out not weeping." 

"Immune?" The Major sat up a little straighter. "You can withstand the Terror?" The official handbook referred to it as that - soldiers had other names for it, 

"Do you have clearance for this?" I asked archly, nudging my tea over to John as well. 

"I think we are beyond clearance if you have been into the rift. You become a reason for clearance," he replied. "I want you describe in detail the process of going through the rift." 

"We fell through dodging the dog. It wasn't anything to note for me. You?" I glanced over at John. 

"I get this sort of vibration feeling in my head near Other realm energies. I felt a spike, but this time there was nothing poised waiting on the other side, so it was bearable. It was bloody freezing...we think that might be energy related, rather than the actual temperature. I'm, much more affected than Seb ...uh the Colonel is." John said. 

"But we could see our breath. It was like a luminous fog. John felt the other portal and we crossed that way just to get out of there." 

"You say you felt the portal?" the Major queried. "How?"

"It felt like a familiar energy so I assumed it might be where we had come from. We were a bit disorientated. It wasn't until we broke out into heat that it came crashing down on me where we had arrived. I found that... challenging." 

"Wasn't a good moment." I flashed the major a toothy smile, and shrugged. "We'd been hostages there before." 

"I have had a briefing on your files," he said. "Believe me, if you weren't some of the Empire's most revered heroes you would be a cell right now. You have friends in high places. And you made it back - what was the distance?"

"Actually, probably not more than a few steps." John said. 

"It was easy, all in all." I bristled at the suggestion that we'd be in a cell, because I wasn't going to submit to that again, whether it was my country or not. 

"For you maybe," the Major replied with a grimace that suggested to me their own experiences had been less successful. 

"Have you tried to cross people through before?" I could at least expand my own knowledge a little. 

"I'm not authorised to discuss that," Major Andrews replied. "It would be useful, however, to know what you noticed of the terrain, anything at all." 

"The math was wrong. It wasn't..." I made a gesture either my hand, looking for the words. "It curved. The dog seemed happy." 

"I have no idea what that means sir?" the Major answered frowning, and he probably thought I had taken narcs or something.

"We don't think Professor Moriarty intended to do a human test," John added. Although I wasn't too sure.

I had a feeling Jim had planned for all of it. I tilted my head slightly. "The dimensions, and the way space blocked out was *wrong*. It was as if reality became a fisheye lens, do you understand that? And we maintained our proportions, and so did the dog. It was unsettling to see." 

John raised his eyebrows. "Yes, you're right, it was a bit like that. Now you've said it I can tell what was bothering me." 

"What was it?" I was more interested in John explaining what he experienced than answering the daft major's questions. We could've debriefed each other better. 

"The shapes of the buildings I could feel would have been impossible to build here. But we had mass there. Something was wrong with physics there. And energy was, I mean over there the Dog looked to me like she was surrounded by some sort of energy flame, but you... you were like a magnesium flare, and then it was like you shut it down." 

"Huh. When you got your hand on my belt? I didn't see any flares or..." I trailed off. It made sense given what we knew now. 

I think humans are sources of energy and food several magnitudes above what exists naturally there," John said. 

"So, the Colonel conceals that energy?" the Major asked again. 

Didn't seem to be what John was saying. "I don't see glamours. I don't... experience it like you do. And it seems I can share it with someone I'm touching." 

"We're not really sure what it is," John added. "But think we've proven whatever it is extends by touch or near contact. 

"It was very disconcerting." I looked at the major. "Are you finished or can we go?"   
"I'm afraid you can't leave the base until we have official clearance," the Major answered. "We're waiting for word from on high and clarification of your clearance status." 

"Have you called the elder Holmes?" I slouched in the chair and added, "I can call him." 

"He has already been called," the Major said. "Otherwise this interview would be a lot less friendly. I believe his words were What have they blown up now?" 

I chortled, and leaned back in the chair. "Ah, that's good. He knows his brother well." 

"We called after the break in. I believe he might be on his way." The Major pushed his chair back. "I need to speak to our other guests, but as this is a... discussion rather than an interrogation, you may take yourself to the base canteen if you wish, but you will be needed to go to the Infirmary for blood tests and so on. We don't know exactly what effect going through the rift has." 

"Don't expect I'll grow another limb," I snorted, looking over at John. "Shall we?" 

"Hells yes," John said." I want to find somewhere comfortable and something to eat to warm me up. My leg hurts." 

"Excellent." I moved to help him up, and then picked up the mice again. "Let's get to the canteen and get fed before anyone starts poking or prodding." I hoped we could stall long enough to get away free. 

He moved stiffly, limping and grimacing. "Thank you Major."

"If you are here for a long time I'd appreciate a written report," He said. Personally, it seemed like someone had been whispering into his ear about being nice to us as his attitude had changed somewhat. Maybe Mycroft really was on the way. 

It was odd, but I also wasn't going to acknowledge it much. Nothing like throwing your weight around bullishly to not get a good response from captives. I walked with John outside, and started to look for where the canteen might be. 

John seemed to be thinking hard as we walked slowly. Military bases tended to be the same regardless of place and time so a little use of logic put us on the right path. He seemed curiously quiet as well. 

"How are you?" I had been particularly animated in there, not sure if John needed covering for or not. 

"I'm fine," he replied. He had a faint frown that even I knew meant something along the lines that he was thinking hard about something, and looking at me while he did it. 

I lifted an eyebrow at him, and didn't start walking again. "Are you?" And was that the surprising bit? 

"Yeah. It's just..." he stopped and looked at me directly. "When did you start being able to move your arm properly again?" 

"I..." My words caught in my throat, and I turned to stare at it like it was someone else's arm. "Oh, lost hells, I hadn't even noticed. I, I can't remember." 

"It wasn't like that yesterday, or even this morning," John said reaching out to touch it. "Didn't see enough of you after we made it to the hollow. We need to look at it...I need to see it..." 

"Last night it was killing me." Now I felt no pain and it moved, natural muscle memory repaired and not geared up for the wincing. "And this morning it ached. I..." I gestured with my head toward the lavatory. 

He nodded and we headed inside the bathroom. "I think it happened in the rift. you were firing one handed. " 

"I remember that. And I was still..." I reached for the memory. No, I think by Afghanistan I had the use of my other hand. It was funny to think of that like that. 

I slipped off my jacket, then unbuttoned my shirt. I looked at the scarred area and frowned myself. The scars were there but the pitted patterns seemed to be different. Not inflamed and causing pain all the time. 

"Can I touch the area?" John asked studying it. 

"Yes." I moved my arm closed to him. They looked less dead white. "What the hell happened?" 

John was concentrating. "The magic, it's like… I think you nullified it. Stepped up a notch when we went through the rift and stopped it pulling you towards whatever it was that marked you. You are healthier, stronger than you were back then. More reserves to draw on. You said you were hungry, so..." 

"Still am." I rubbed at the side of my mouth, and kept looking at John. "We could go back. Somehow. See what we can do for your leg." 

"To do that you would have to learn how to project," John said. His hand was lingering on my shoulder and he seemed a little distracted by the skin to skin contact. "If you can then...well there's a lot of people who would be interested." 

I smiled a little, because I'd done enough caring for others for one lifetime. For two lifetimes. "They can go fuck themselves. How do I learn to project?" 

"No bloody idea. That's a question for Jim and Sherlock I think," John said. He sighed a little. "I really, really just want to go to bed. "

The door to the bathroom opened and a squaddie paused in the doorway and I had a sudden ludicrous thought of what we probably looked like. Me, with my shirt nearly off, John with his hands on me, leaning in to me. "For Chaat's sake," the man muttered and left, letting the door swing shut. 

I laughed, loud and long, and dropped my hands to John's hips, feeling oddly proud just then even though it was nothing of the sort. "Food and sleep, then." 

"Mm. And then other things," John said with a faint smile. "Hey, we're going to be "the guys who broke into a secret base to have sex in the bathroom" story in the mess hall. Might as well add to that." 

"Earn it?" I leaned into him, tilting my head down slightly, trying to see if a kiss would be all right. 

A kiss was definitely well received, and John seemed to not want to let go. "You're like some sort of fucking amazing heater," he said reverentially holding on to me. 

"Wonder if that's part of it, too." I halfway didn't want to move, and wrapped an arm around him because I could.

Eventually, we'd tend to boring things like food and sleep and getting out of there.

* * *

Somewhere along the line we had been sent back to London. Mycroft had arrived, and if I had thought he was icy before, I soon realized that what he showed us was warmth to the point of affection because he swept through that base like an arctic storm. I have no doubt that Seb and I would still have been there if not for his intervention. We gave one sizeable blood sample each and then he practically ordered us home, no stopping after he and Sherlock had a shouting match in the middle of the secret base.

He said he would discuss it with us later and three days back in London, the wait was starting to wear on us. 

Well, it was wearing on me. It was wearing on me, and Sherlock and Jim seemed to give not a good Chaat damned thought about it. I was worried, and Sebastian seemed concerned as well, because whatever had happened, I knew it would change something when it was shared. 

The one plus side was that Seb and I shared a bed since we got home. Mainly for sleeping and we hadn't decided who had the most comfortable bed yet. Generally, we went to where the others weren't. It was almost like the two flats had become a blended together house. 

Jim and Sherlock didn't seem to mind, and the only snarky comment had come from Sherlock about wishing we could make puppies, and Jim saying something about making puppies having been the root of it.

I wondered, often, what kind of Other Sherlock Holmes was. 

Right now, however, Seb had escaped Sherlock and Jim's focus on his arm and their intensive study of it and had called me out into the living room. Mycroft was on his way.

"Your privacy wards are rubbish." Jim was snarking at Sherlock. "Every time he comes here he drops several spells to monitor you." 

"To monitor me or to monitor you?" Sherlock shot back, idly leafing through his phone. 

"Oh, you know he is all about efficiency. " Jim said. "Probably you after your troubled teenage years. "  
I got myself a cup of tea and put a pot on to brew of earl grey for Mycroft. I knew enough to know he would be there shortly, especially if they started talking about him. 

Sebastian was poking around with maps that Jim had surfaced, studying them still even as we all moved around in our little dramas. 

Sherlock snorted. "My troubled teenage years." 

"I could call them your narced out of your brain feeding frenzy years," Jim said sweetly. "But I wouldn't be that rude."

It was then I felt Mycroft approaching up the stairs. Either I was getting more sensitive, or he was pumping out a lot of energy now. 

Sebastian's theory was that I was more sensitive, even though he was as numb to it as a post. I tried wrapping my head around how life would be like that, to not feel the little eddies of glee and spikes of terror. 

"Is that why he doesn't seem to feed anymore?" Sebastian asked. 

"How do you know I'm not?" Sherlock replied sounding bored.

I looked towards the door which Sherlock immediately noticed and called out "Come in Mycroft," before there was a knock and looked absurdly smug about pre-empting his brother.

"I see you are staying alert Sherlock," he said and the aura of ice was so strong I actually shivered. Stupid thing to do in a room of geniuses. 

All three of them turned to me, and each of them laid an assessing gaze on me, looking and deciding something before moving on.

Only Mycroft commented, "yes, well. To the matter at hand, brother. When I asked for you to read up on Baskerville..." 

"Reading is boring without action. Besides, we had a case."

“Luminous pet rabbit," I said unable to help myself. 

Mycroft gave me another long meaningful look. "Breaking into a highly secret military base, and almost ending up permanent hostages." 

"It was obvious when we got there that you were involved," Sherlock said. "I used your pass card after all. You wanted us to go there, to Baskerville Mycroft, don't deny it."  
I was watching them both, seeing the interaction on a more energy-based level. 

Mycroft's chill settled, rather than rose up higher, and I found that intensely strange for a moment. Sherlock was surging energy, like leaves rustling in a wind. "Eventually, and without two individuals whose full abilities I do work to mask." 

"But without them we wouldn't have made the breakthrough," Jim put into the conversation. 

"And Sebastian's arm is now healing rather than being a psychically gangrenous mass." 

"Thank you for phrasing it so delicately," Sebastian groused, pushing a pin into the map on the wall very firmly. I wandered closer, and offered Mycroft his tea. "Now if I could work out how to project, I could..." He glanced at me, and Mycroft smiled at Sebastian in a gently patronizing way as he took the tea. 

"Indeed, I am here to talk about next steps. That will be one of the first. Sherlock, James, we have several priorities. Enhancing Sebastian's nullifying ability is one of the priorities." He looked at me closely. "It would appear that Dr Watson's ability is increasing in sensitivity."  
For all the good it did me. 

"Perhaps you and I could trade," Jim said slyly, looking to Sherlock. "Just for a couple of weeks."

Sherlock appeared to be considering it so I said "Do we get any say in this? I'm not even sure if I'm of any use with it." There hadn't been a lot of use that I could see. Maybe sensing familiar energies in the rift, but we could have equally stumbled over it blind.

"The queen herself could walk up behind me, John, and I'd have no bloody idea until I was being chewed on," Sebastian uttered. "And you don't know what use you are?" 

"I rather don't think you'd notice that, either..." 

I ignored Sherlock as Mycroft said "Indeed, I suspect there are further applications. Still, you are getting the highest level of security clearance and this will be non-negotiable in its complete confidentiality." 

"Which part?" Sebastian edged in closer to me as he asked that. 

"Firstly, James will be putting his intelligence to the task of making his portal calculations and runic magic portable and usable by a non-specialist - Sherlock, you need to assist." Mycroft said. I cleared my throat. "And where do we fit in?" 

"Moran will apply his tactical mind..." he seemed to squint at the map for the first time. "Yes, marking out enemy worship sites. Yes, quite good. And Sherlock will teach him to project. You will help us find rifts and weak spots here in London." 

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the chair arm. "Mm, so when are you planning your covert ops Mycroft?" 

"We are... confidential," Sebastian agreed. "You could put us in a deep dark hole if you wanted to, sir, so this is much more preferable." 

Mycroft sighed a little and actually sat down. "Sherlock, you need to look at the big picture."

Jim made a noise. "Anyone with half a brain can tell that the war is going nowhere. This is what happens, it goes around in circles and no one really wins because the Royals are working their own agendas."

It was true enough. Sometimes their actions, their attacks and retreats made no logical sense. But it was true it was human logic. 

Sherlock was quiet, staring at Mycroft intently. "Oh. Oh, is this...?" 

"That remains to be seen," he said and that was not at all helpful, and designed to be that way.   
"Everything depends on our ability to navigate the Other zone, to control and direct portals and transport soldiers where they need to be. You Dr Watson are our navigator."

It left Sebastian with a goofy smile on his face as he glanced over at Jim, who cleared his throat. "And I'd like to work with John on this, so I can continue documenting hotspots. Many are based on historical documentation, others on predictions based on the mathematical probability..." 

"Your priority Professor Moriarty, is to make a portable idiot proof portal opener," Mycroft said. Again, I was picking up a spike of something as he was talking. The stakes were huge. "Sebastian's nullifying ability needs to become active and conscious. Once he can do that, we can move troops through that Other place without having to narc them." 

And for other reasons, but I didn't want to press. I'd been a good soldier long enough to know to not press. "Then that's the plan." Sebastian said it firmly and acceptingly, and I wondered if he thought it was that simple or he was being a good soldier. 

"You all know of course that this venture must be completely confidential. Sherlock, not a word. I am not sharing this with any other functionaries, and Victoria Gloriana will be taking a personal interest in our progress."

I shivered involuntarily- the Empress of the Empire on which the Sun never rose - ancient and as much an object of worship as reverence. 

It was frightening to imagine even a fraction of her attention falling on our meagre work. "We won't disappoint." 

I nodded, not wanting to risk being in her attention if I could help it. "Good." Mycroft stood again. "Never discuss this anywhere without maximum wards...understood?" He emphasised that point many times, but I had taken it on board. It also meant none of us could be caught and live. 

I didn't want to think about that, as we'd all, Sherlock included, had to become more safety conscious. "Excellent. Anything else, other than the impossible task of idiot proofing complicated runic concepts?" Jim was smiling at least.

"Only to impress upon you the utmost need for secrecy in this endeavour," Mycroft said looking carefully at all of them. "We are currently the only ones who know of this breakthrough. It shall stay that way."

"And the people in Baskerville?" Sebastian asked archly. 

"Continue with their original remit," Mycroft said and stood and headed towards the door. "They are not a problem." 

It was an interesting way of phrasing it, but I didn't say anything. Mycroft had spoken, like a true Royal, and let himself out. 

I glanced over at Seb, pleased that we had a role to play but nervous about what would be prolonged visits in that otherworld.

"Interesting," Jim said. "I'll have to design some new math for wards." 

"Anything I can be of use for?" Sebastian looked pleased as well, and leaned in to me. 

"You need to start thinking about how to project your skill," Jim answered and grinned. "From your reports, it is obvious it is a controllable ability...it varies. John, you said Sebastian looked bright and then not?"

"Yes," I said thoughtfully trying to remember. It had muted abruptly.

"I hypothesised that was when he burned out the connection magic, over compensating for the new environment." 

"I burned out the what?" Sebastian was squinting. I knew that he got most of it, but any extra information just then could be a literal lifesaver for all of us. 

"The embedded magic in your arm," Sherlock said staring where his brother had been as Mycroft made a hasty exit. 

"Jim did say it could be pulled loose - I guess with the adrenalin you did the whole lot," I said, trying to get a measure as to whether I got it right. 

"But how can..." Sebastian was seeming to look into some middle ground. "I always thought of it as being deaf, not able to do that." 

"No, no, no..." Jim said, gesticulating at him. "That is the mistake people have been making all along. It is not the absence of something, but the presence of something. Even the Others thought that, thinking they could force you to hear by embedding it in your flesh and bone that deeply. "

I thought I could see what they were talking about. I'd worked out that Seb had an ability straight away. Things faded when I was in contact with him but only in dire situations. I had remembered - my curse or gift - what had happened in the cave. How there had been a moment when the creature had been disoriented when Seb had become unconscious. Like a flare had stunned it. I had taken my moment then. "Er, thinking about it... there was something that was noticeable when we were captured. I think Seb did overload not just the bond but the creature in the caves... not the Full royal, but the feeding one."

He looked almost comically deep in thought in response to that, though I said no such thing, and watched him nod. "The unconsciousness. Perhaps because I was underfed and brutalised? Whereas now..." comfortable food, good sleep, everything you needed to get top performance of any skill set.

"More power behind it," I agreed. "I know it hasn't been long, but if you could disorientate it while half-starved and ill that might make sense. Likewise, with the Old One. You manage to hold your own there." 

"You say that like I know what I was doing. You at least can muddle through up from down with yours." Or fake it enough to lead them all on to thinking that, yes. 

"I don't have a clue what's going on with mine," I said. "All I know is there is sensitivity. I'm not overly grateful for that." It bloody well hurt most of the time. 

Even sensing the dog had been a source of strain and pain for me, while Sebastian had been seeing it as a glorious dangerous creature. Jim made a noise. "Yes, yes. We'll work on that, too. But first, I think, dinner." 

"Mrs Hudson left us something?" I asked. "Or takeaway?" We wouldn't get Sherlock and Jim to cook. 

"Mrs. Hudson graciously left Sherlock a..." He waved a hand, and Sebastian snorted, turning toward the kitchen.

"A something that goes in the oven. Right. How come she doesn't leave you food gifts?" 

"Because I told her her sausage casserole reminded me of Cthulhu spawn in look and taste," Jim said happily enough. 

I felt a wave of unwell come over me, unbidden at the thought, and Sebastian seemed to gag a bit as well. "Then I have bad news for you..." 

"Maybe take away then?" I suggested hurriedly. "I really don't need to go along these lines of thought, even if it tastes okay I think I'd be vomiting my boots up.

From then it descended into the usual sort of squabble over where to order from, to call and get delivery or to walk and pick up. We finally settled on delivery, and all in all, it was the most normal my life had felt in a long time.

* * *

There was never enough time for me to practice. With Sherlock and Jim both moving out, there was a general feeling that the best way to train both John and I was while under fire, or at least close enough to draw fire. 

The first few times through the rift had been brief, terrifying and not always successful. Some of Jim's constructed prototypes were not particularly stable with one memorable instance of it collapsing with us half way through. The resulting explosion had ended up with all of us out cold, nursing mild concussion and then a raging argument between Sherlock and Jim about how it happened.

Of course, the two of them blamed John and myself. It was somehow our fault, the combined energies of our whatever -- which had been a very deep scientific explanation from Jim that I still wasn't willing to accept -- had destabilised his device. 

Slowly, we started to get a grip on the process. I'll be honest, I'm still not sure how I shield John but I've found that I can do it without him having to cling to me the entire time - though I suspect if we came across a Great Old One I would have to touch him. This might be in part due to his own training, getting to grips with his sensitivity. He sees things I can't, and can locate exit points that Jim has not calculated and bring back the information necessary. We are building a map of jump points and it is possibly the single most valuable document in the Empire. 

Albion had always been the strongest of the Elder led empires, but this would put everyone securely beneath what we were. Or that was what I thought until the portal we had found that morning. 

I'd heard Jim and Sherlock arguing in hushed tones. Something about it being too soon. They’d shut up as soon as John and I had appeared in sight all geared up.

Which had never been a very fortifying sight for me, the two of them conspiring against, well, us. I was still contemplating it as I sat down on the edge of my bed, fussing with my boots.   
John and I were proving to be more than just acquaintances thrown together in a dire situation - the robust attraction between us was developing rather than fading but we both had lost people important to us. It made it difficult to talk about that in detail but each time we took a step through one of those unearthly portals, our actions towards each other said more than words. Particularly this time.

This trip had been different. Not a mere hop skip and a jump from portal to portal...but a drop into the ghastly and the eldritch world of the Others and their dominions. The equivalent would be to have been unexpectedly dropped into an occupied territory in a city. 

A vivid, teeming city, and that was when I realised the depth of danger we were courting. John was still halfway gesturing that his hand was hurting from having been clutched so hard, but it was a sad attempt at a joke after such an exhausting journey. Everything had been... warped. Fisheye lens, I kept thinking about it, because that was how my brain was processing it into something I could grasp. 

John had seen more - that, as Sherlock said, was what he was there for and he had been unnaturally quiet since we had made it out of the portal again. It had been fraught with danger and sights that jarred against the human mind. John kept scribbling things he saw down - photos did not work in this realm, making sketches and so on. The worst moment was looking over the city at the geography surrounding it, noting the hills and vantage points...when one of the 'hills moved, and I realised it was a Great Old One. The hills surrounding the city were Old Ones. The City itself seems to be some fleshy Ancient Old one, with habitations carved into living matter, pulsing and breathing. We stood like two bacteria contemplating our odds ...and nearly ran our way back. 

It hadn't been long but it had, it had been so long that the sun had set and Jim was putting bits of his gear away when we staggered back through.

"Do you want me to get you another cup of tea?" 

John glanced at me and he gave a forced smile. "Please," he said. The cold still affected him more, even with my shielding. 

I smiled and leaned up to wander back to the kitchen, out of my comfortable rooms and past where Jim was brooding in the living room. Sherlock was upstairs playing the violin, it sounded like, faint strains. 

When Sherlock played the violin, it was best not to get involved with his thinking process-we'd all learned that one. Jim would not surface for some time from the way he was scowling at the scribbled notes John had brought back. All I could hear was some muttering from the sofa about bloody maths not making sense. 

"Maybe you need to invent a new math," I offered, ducking into the kitchen to make John a fresh mug of tea before looking for the milk. "It seemed... warped." 

"Yes, yes, so bloody helpful," Jim grumbled. "You are a fucking genius why didn't I think of that?" 

It was hard to not laugh, so I let myself chuckle as I made a mug of tea for him as well. "You thought about it, it just isn't making you happy. Go on, you step into it like that and then try to explain it back." 

"You have no idea what you are talking about. These... notations John made cannot be accurate! They should not work!" 

"They're true." I stepped back into the living room, firm as I let the water heat. "The world was warped and nothing made sense. It was like everything was through a fish eye lens." 

He stared at me. "Maths is Maths,” he said. "That's the reason we can prove the existence of magic." He was behaving aggressively, as if blaming us for things not working well.

"In this universe. Here. Four dimensions. What if they, what if there's more. What if..." I waved a hand vaguely. Had the man never read a book? A fictional book? 

"Oh, please, I deal with dimensional maths all the time. They obey simple mathematical rules. Well simple if you have a brain, but... these should not work here... it's like someone has taken them and skewed..." He stopped mid-sentence and I could almost see the lightbulb over his head. 

"Skewed them to some predictable degree that you can work out with more math?" I ducked back into the kitchen, and left Jim a mug of tea on my way past. "We'll leave you to it." 

"I need to speak to Sherlock right now," he said gathering the papers and almost running for the door. That was almost a relief, so I ducked back into my room and wondered at how easy it was to carry two cups with two working hands. 

"Thanks", John said gratefully and he looked pale still. Difficult to tell if that was the cold or some other effect. 

I tried to settle in behind him, and slid an arm around him. "We can slide under the covers..." 

He seemed to perk up a little at that. "You going to be my personal bedwarmer?" he asked. "The cold is worse this time. Not even having a bath helped." 

"We were deep on the other side, not just in some small warped pocket." I shifted gently, moving slowly so as not to displace the tea. "C’mon. Not like there's anything else to be done today." 

He seemed quite grateful to slide into bed. "I've never been more grateful for you being hotter than normal. In all ways." 

"You say that to all the retired burnouts." I felt a swell of warmth in my chest. The degree of emotional reaction I had to John was nearly ridiculous, but I savoured it as he settled against me. 

"Well, yeah. Those who are over six foot and well endowed," John said with a bit of humour. "I hate being this cold. It has to be some sensitivity thing." 

I pondered if he sensed it - if he sensed the cold of them, the underlying temperature and tone of their world. "Has to be." I wasn't sure how to say those words out loud, how to ponder it at John so he wouldn't look at me funny. "You sense the root of them, perhaps." 

"I could do without that. What did you see when we were in there?" he asked sipping his tea and getting as close as possible. 

"A world I don't want any part of." But a concrete world, and though it was tiring to think of, it wasn't like the stories. I didn't feel like screaming in madness. 

"Always a plus," John murmured. "Did you see the Great Old Ones?" 

"The vast things off in the distance that looked like mountains and moved?" I had a sinking feeling that they had as many or more strange limbs and suggestions of movement and eyes as the one we'd been standing on. 

"They were, I could feel their thinking, even where we were." John shivered. "They suck in energy. Lots of energy." 

"And where does it come from?" I closed my eyes, and felt the edge of memory there. 

"Over there?" John took a deep breath. "Each one of those old ones is a parasite on the half dead carcass of an Ancient Greater Old One. The energy is thin and... like gruel. But where the weak points are between us and them, there is like a rich leakage of energy...their hierarchy is determined by proximity to the leak. All of their cities are clustered around the vents. It reminds me of those underwater volcano vents. Life clustered around it desperately." 

"But what's leaking through the weak points? Places like us or other places?" 

"That's a question I don't know how to answer. I do know we are very rich in energy compared to what is there normally. Maybe they depleted their own over many years." He shrugged a little. "We are... like nuclear power to them or along those lines." 

"And what point do we look like they do?" Worn down, impossibly hollowed out, and cold. So damn cold that John still felt it. 

"When our universe is impossibly ancient and bloated with cold dying suns," John said. "That's the despair I think. The place is saturated in it. They exist in the last breaths of their universe. Things so monstrous nature could not make them die." 

"And when it dies, what stops them from desperately... coming here." Like they had before, centuries ago to found our world, but more of them. 

What if Victoria Gloriana had simply been from a scouting party? "I think...I think they are planning something like that. We were not there long, and that works in our favour. They don't view time like we do." John had finished his tea and had progressed to getting as close to me as physically possible. "It's hard to explain. I hear their thoughts under the glamour, I remember them. They are...they should be enough to break a human mind." 

I finished my own tea and wrapped my arms tight around him in comfort. It was a comfort for us both, and one I wasn't going to deny us. "You didn't break." 

"No, but I should." John answered. "Perhaps I would without you there." I wasn't sure about that, because John had survived however long he had been a prisoner as well intact. If he was going to break it would have been then.

"I think I might be an aid, not a solution," I offered, because truly, John had a skill. John was an entity unto himself in what he did. 

It was just a shame that he felt he didn't know what he was doing - Jim and Sherlock were not particularly helpful in this regard. They'd obviously skipped the bit of genius training that supported other people.

"I don't think I could face that place without you." John said sincerely. "Daft, I know. I just...I don't think I could." 

"You don't have to." Again, I felt the gap, the lack of understanding at what normal experience was, and instead rubbed my fingers against his sides, idling and enjoying our time together. 

Trying to not think things best left unthought. 

"We work well together," he said, his arms wrapping around me. For people who had both made money out of writing, we were poor with the spoken word. I could tell John was hesitant about saying something. "Seb, we, I wanted to say..." 

"Mmh?" I couldn't do much more than make an encouraging noise, not wanting to interrupt. Perhaps it was because of that that we both understood the importance of words. 

"This is more than just...what we are doing. To me." He cleared his throat, deliberately not looking at me. 

I felt a rush of fondness, a deep warmth, and slid my hands down to his hips, but no further. Emotions and sex didn't necessarily need to complicate each other though they often overlapped. "To me, as well." 

He risked a look at me then, a bit of colour coming back into his face. "That's good. ...shit, I'm bad at this aren't I?" 

I leaned in and bussed a kiss against his mouth before settling back in comfortably. "We both are. But, I'd like to have a life with you." 

His lips were warming now against mine. "Same, I just... I just get the feeling that there is more to all of this. Sherlock's expression when I told him what I told you." 

"Yes. Best we not know." I kissed him again, more firmly. "Best to not think about it and just keep doing it, Hmn?" 

"Keep doing that and I won't be able to think of anything," John murmured. "I've never even asked if...you know, there is anything you want to do." 

"Hmn." I mulled that over before huddling in almost theatrically for the warmth. "I want to do everything with you. That's all." 

"Okay, I'll get the feathers and honey," John said with a low chuckle. "You know what I mean. You seem to be enjoying yourself but going along with things. I want you to tell me what you want." 

"Haven't had time to think." And things were going so well, it hadn't crossed my mind. Going along in relationships was what I did. "I enjoy bottoming, sometimes. On and off." 

"Just tell me when you have lurid fantasies," John said. "I'll do my best to make them happen. I like...that feeling of doing something special for someone." 

"I'll let myself stew on one or two." I kissed him again, feeling a little more relaxed. "We might work on one or two together?" 

"Yeah, though I won't be writing them up for the blog," John promised with a smile. “The Albion public would not cope." 

"The Albion public has a lot to answer for." I sighed again and rubbed my hands over his back slowly. "Feeling less bone cold?”

"Much warmer," John replied. "Thank you. I like the feel of your muscles. You've got them back quick enough." 

“Great genetics. I hate to say it, but you should see my father. At his age, still built like a damn ox.” If I lived to that age, I hoped to look that well off.

“You don't usually mention him,” John murmured. He was definitely warming up lying practically on top of me and there was something about that which just felt right.

It was an easy comfort, and I stretched my shoulders, spreading my legs to wrap them around his a little better. “It'd be all bitching and moaning if I did. You'd feel lucky.”

“So, no uncomfortable introductions over high tea?” John asked looking up with a bit of a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, I might. I just might, if you ever want to feel like you're in danger, but in a stupid non-fun way.” I kissed him then, because the teasing tone and light in his eyes did as much for me as warm skin.

“I'd introduce you to Harry, but I'm not even sure she'd recognise me, let alone you,” he replied. “That's it on the family front for me.”

“You’ve met my sister. That's it for uncomfortable introductions, and it wasn't bad.” Harry... Harry we might try and intervene on sometime. It was an idea I had at the time, but wasn't sure how far to take it.

“Considering we've walked in the realms of the gods.” I could hear the air quotes and sarcasm. John did not think much of that realm.

“Shithole,” I muttered reflexively. “Utter shithole.”

John lay there idly teasing at my chest over my scars with his fingers, deep in thought. “What do you think Mycroft's plan is?” he asked eventually.

“I think...” I hesitated because it was madness to say out loud. “I think these portals are as dangerous to us as they might be beneficial to the war.”

“How so?” John asked looking up at me for a moment.

“Those creatures, that dying city.” I closed my eyes, because I couldn't look at John when I said it. “What's to stop them from crossing over?”

He stilled a moment, trying to comprehend that hideous possibility.

What if all of this, our current history which was barely any time at all on their bloated lifespans had just been a foothold operation. Warring factions trying to secure a beach head on a fertile feeding ground? I had fought for the Queen and Empire...perhaps she was nothing more than an Emissary, or perhaps she was fighting to have this world, our world for Herself. The wars of human history a territory squabble.

Being able to jump from point to point, the military advantage was clear. World-changing.

Then John said something in the barest whisper, so faintly I wasn't even sure for a moment it had been said, that changed everything. Something I could not believe we had not thought of before, that I was stunned had not come to mind of our resident genius’ and would change our world forever.

”If they could cross over here… then what is to stop us sending nukes there?”


End file.
